


‘I’LL BE BACK FOR YOU’

by alpineshoodratt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abduction, Abuse, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Beating, Brutality, Child Abuse, Drug Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Gay Sex, Humiliation, Kidnapping, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Multi, Murder, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Past Torture, Physical Abuse, Porn, Prostitution, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Sam, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex, Sexual Abuse, Substance Abuse, Teenagers, Torture, Tortured Dean, Underage Sex, Victim Castiel, Victim Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-10 08:50:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 42,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6976261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpineshoodratt/pseuds/alpineshoodratt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>INTRODUCTION </p><p>Human Trafficking:</p><p>Here in this country, people are being bought, sold, and smuggled like modern-day slaves, often beaten, starved, and forced to work as prostitutes or to take jobs as migrant, domestic, restaurant, or factory workers with little or no pay. Over the past decade, human trafficking has been identified as a heinous crime which exploits the most vulnerable in society.</p><p>-Federal Bureau of Investigation </p><p> </p><p>Castiel Lange and Dean Winchester were taken from different states and sold to separate buyers.<br/>There is no Liam Neeson coming to their rescue.<br/>No vigilante dad with weapons training and endless resources.<br/>But the short time they share during transport leaves a lasting impression on them both and they hang on to those memories in order to survive. </p><p>And maybe…one day…find one another again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. CASTIEL

Castiel stumbled off the bus, across the gravel road, headed down the long, dirt driveway to his trailer. 

His jeans, two sizes too big, drug through the dust, leaving a gray-brown cloud behind him. 

Once the boy was close enough to see the singlewide, he released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

Dad’s truck wasn’t there. 

That meant Dad worked a full day and he had a few hours to relax before the storm came in. 

 

Jingling his key in to the weak, front door lock, he pushed inside. 

It was always so musty in here. 

No matter how much Castiel cleaned, his home smelled like other people’s basements. 

 

Systematically opening every window in the house, he dug through the empty cabinets, finding a partial roll of crackers. 

Castiel spread his homework out on the table, munching Saltines before getting a glass of water. 

School was the only bright spot in the boy’s life. 

He was smart. 

Real smart. 

Had skipped a grade in elementary, and then another in high school. 

Cas was the only 15 year old Junior at LPHS. 

He took his assignments very seriously, working through each subject as the afternoon became evening and the sky began to darken. 

 

When he finished, returning his books and papers neatly to his backpack, the same backpack he had been using since the 7th grade, he began a search of the refrigerator for the makings of a dinner for Dad. 

Leftover spaghetti, half a jar of pizza sauce and three slices of ‘cheese product’. 

That’ll have to do. 

Spreading the leftovers at the bottom of a baking pan, he covered them with the rest of the sauce and topped it with the fake cheese. 

Setting it in the oven for a half hour, went to his room. 

 

Castiel’s bed was neatly made, furniture dust-free and worn carpet as clean as it’s ever going to get. 

He was changing in to his pajama pants, also too big, when he heard the rattling of his father’s truck throwing dirt down the driveway. 

‘Please’ he thought ‘please let him be in a good mood tonight.’ 

 

Cas’s mom died two years ago. 

Before that, everything was good. 

Not perfect, but good. 

They had always been ‘low income’ (poor), Amelia was sick and couldn’t work; Jimmy laid off half the year. 

Going hungry wasn’t anything new. 

Wearing hand-me-downs and Goodwill clothing was completely normal. 

But they were happy most of the time. 

 

When Mom passed away, Dad’s grief morphed to anger pretty quickly. 

It started with a slap across the face if he felt Castiel was being disrespectful. 

Those turned in to punches if he thought Cas might be lying or disobeying. 

Sometimes, when the boy had been knocked to the floor, the man would deliver a few kicks for good measure. 

 

What troubled Castiel more than hiding bruises was the fact that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. 

Never disrespectful. 

Never lied. 

Never disobeyed. 

It was as if Jimmy made up excuses to be brutal to the boy. 

Cas kept quiet and still. 

Making sure to never draw attention to himself. 

That habit carried over to school as well. 

He was invisible.

 

Cas could never figure out if his dad was mad because Amelia had left him to care for his son alone, or because Castiel was alive while his beautiful wife lay in the ground.   
As intelligent as he was, he would never find a logical explanation for any of it. 

 

Just that Jimmy was perpetually pissed off. 

 

“Castiel!” 

His father bellowed, slamming the front door behind him. 

Closing his blue eyes, Cas took a deep breath before summoning the courage to leave his room. 

“Yes, Sir?” 

Jimmy had collapsed in to his recliner that didn’t actually recline anymore. 

“Where’s dinner, boy?” 

“In the oven, Sir. It should be done in a few minutes.” 

“Good. Bring me a beer.” 

 

Castiel hurried to the kitchen with fear tightening his gut. 

He didn’t remember seeing any beer when he searched the fridge earlier. 

Opening the appliance’s door, he discovered he was right. 

 

Damn it. 

 

Checking the timer on the oven, three and a half minutes left, he bit his bottom lip, as he returned to the living room. 

“You are out of beer, Sir.” 

Jimmy’s eyes narrowed, he sat forward in the chair, studying Cas’s face. 

“You drink my beer, boy?” 

“No, Sir.” 

“You think I’m stupid, boy?” 

‘See? Now I HAVE to lie’ he thought to himself before answering. 

“No, Sir.” 

“I had a six pack in there last night, Castiel.” 

His dad was standing now, almost a foot taller than Cas and walking towards him. 

“I believe you drank those after dinner yesterday, Sir.” 

 

SMACK 

 

Holding his hand over the hot, red spot on his cheek, Castiel stared at the stained carpet below him and waited. 

It never stopped at one hit. 

 

Never. 

 

“You. You ungrateful little brat. You steal my beer, lie about it and call me an idiot. I would remember if I drank six beers, Castiel.” 

 

PUNCH 

 

The side of the head, right in the temple, knocking him to the ground with an instant, throbbing headache.

It was then the timer decided to beep, giving Castiel a much needed break from the conversation. 

“Go get my food.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

 

Cas took a moment in the kitchen to splash cold water on his face. 

It cooled the burning palm print and cleared his blurry vision a bit. 

Cutting a large portion of his makeshift casserole, he slid it on to the plate with an unappealing ‘plop’. 

With a clean fork and a glass of water, he returned to the living room where his father had the TV tray set in front of him. 

“What the fuck is this shit?” 

“Leftovers, Sir.” 

“I give you grocery money and you bring me slop?”

“You gave me $20 for food two weeks ago, Sir. This is what we have left.” 

“Bullshit. You drink my beer, now you’re stealing money?” 

“No, Sir.” 

Jimmy moved his dinner to the coffee table, pushing aside the tray and began to unbuckle his belt. 

“No matter how many times I teach you a lesson, you still don’t learn, boy.” 

He yanked the leather strap from the loops of his work pants, folding it in half and snapping the loop against his palm a few times. 

Castiel backed up. 

He should know by now that retreat never helped but survival instincts wouldn’t let him just stand there and wait for pain. 

 

By the time Cas crawled his way to the bathroom, his father settling in to eat his dinner, complaining that it was cold, the boy had welts over his arms, legs, back and one on his face. 

The opposite side of the slap so at least the angry, red marks were evened out. 

 

A cold shower, a double dose of pain reliever and he was able to limp his way back to his room. 

He cried himself to sleep, like he did most nights, looking at an old Polaroid picture of his family. 

Mom holding toddler Castiel, Dad resting his hand on her shoulder, all three smiling. 

The strangers in the photo were another life, an alternate universe. 

Cas lived in Hell now. 

 

Castiel, thankfully, made it through the next day without punishment. 

Sometimes, when Jimmy had been extra brutal, the man took a day off. 

Choosing to ignore him instead. 

Cas relished those days. 

 

The following day, though, the boy left the bus to find his dad’s truck in the driveway already. 

 

Damn it. 

 

That meant he had only worked a half day and would be super pissed about missing out on the money. 

Super pissed meant everything would be Castiel’s fault and he would be lucky to make it to school tomorrow. 

 

Without considering the consequences, Cas turned right instead of going forward, heading to the wooded area between their trailer and the neighbor’s property. 

When he was younger, he and Amelia would spend hours building forts and playing hide-n-seek behind trees. 

Castiel fought through branches and twigs to the clearing where he could disappear for a while. 

Maybe stay out here until Jimmy fell asleep. 

Or until morning, even. 

 

When Castiel awoke, it was dark, cold and the crickets were singing. 

He had no idea what time it was, only that it had to be late enough for his dad to sleeping. 

The chill sinking in to his bones was motivation enough for him to attempt to sneak in to the house and wrap himself in every blanket he could find. 

 

Shuffling down the gravel road towards home, headlights behind him illuminated the path and he carefully moved to the side. 

To his terror, the sedan pulled over just in front of him. 

“Hey, kiddo. You shouldn’t be out this late.” 

A tall man wearing a baseball cap called from the driver’s side window. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Automatic response, always answer clearly and with respect. 

“Here” the guy stepped out the car, blocking Castiel’s path, “let me give you a ride.” 

“No, thank you, Sir. I just live there.” He pointed to the next driveway, less than fifty yards away. 

The man opened the back door on the driver’s side anyway. 

“Come on, at least get you out of the cold for a minute.” 

Every instinct in his being screamed for him to run, but when he rotated back towards the woods, the guy grabbed on to the collar of his shirt, yanking him back and choking him slightly. 

Cas was jerked hard, his back slamming against the man’s broad chest a heartbeat before a calloused hand locked itself over his mouth. 

 

“SSShhhhh, now kiddo. Let me give you that ride.”


	2. DEAN

‘I’LL BE BACK FOR YOU’

 

Dean sat at the foot of his bed, reading the note his mom left him on his 12th birthday. 

 

She never came back. 

 

He received a birthday card every year, a present at Christmas, always mailed with no return address. 

Mary had taken 8 year old Sammy out of school that day and disappeared, leaving that single letter. 

 

‘I’LL BE BACK FOR YOU’

 

Today was Dean’s 16th birthday. 

He was listening intently for the mailman to drop off letters, waiting for his mother’s card. 

 

“Dean!” 

Fucking Kate. 

Kate Milligan and her son, Adam, moved in with them just one month after Mary and Sammy left. 

ONE MONTH! 

Dad just couldn’t wait to have his slut of a mistress and their ‘love child’ in the house. 

“What!?” 

“Will you come down here please?” 

Rolling his eyes and sighing in frustration, Dean tucked the worn letter from his mom back under his pillow and stomped downstairs. 

“WHAT?” 

“Drop the attitude, Dean. Your dad called, he’ll be late tonight.” 

“So…?” 

“So, it’ll just be me, you and Adam for your birthday dinner.” 

“I’m not going to dinner with you…” 

“Dean. I’m trying to be nice here.” 

“Then quit trying.” 

Kate picked up the phone to call John back, mumbled and complained in to the mouthpiece as Dean went out to wait on the front porch. 

“Here” his dad’s girlfriend handing him her phone, “Your dad wants to talk to you.” 

Dropping his head back, he closed his eyes as he put the cell to his ear. 

“Dean.” 

“Yeah, Dad?” 

“We’ve had this talk before. You need to show your stepmom respect.” 

“Number one, Kate is not my stepmom. Number two, it’s MY birthday and I don’t want to spend it with them.” 

“They’re your family.” 

“No, Dad. They’re really not.” 

“She’s not coming back for you, you know. Mary and Sammy are gone.” 

“Look. I’ll leave Kate alone, just have her leave me alone and she won’t need to call you up and whine every time I hurt her little feelings.” 

“You still have to respect her Dean, we’ve been over this.” 

“Yeah…well…I think you ‘respect’ her enough for both of us.” 

Dean clicked the ‘end’ button, handing the phone back to Kate who had been listening the entire time. 

 

She took the device and stomped back inside. 

 

It was almost 5pm when the mail arrived. 

Picking through the bills and advertisements, Dean’s green eyes finally landed on the envelope he had been waiting for. 

THIS TIME there was a return address. 

Florida. 

Shoving the rest of the mail back in to the box, he hurried back to his room. 

Inside of the birthday card was a bus ticket to Tampa. 

 

“Dean, 

There’s one transfer in Nashville, but Sammy and I will be waiting at the station when you arrive. Be careful. 

Love, Mom” 

 

Best-birthday-present-EVER! 

 

The trip would take almost a day and a half; Dad working late meant he wouldn’t be back until around 10pm. 

Dean had more than enough time to pack, sneak out and make his way to the bus station. 

He pulled out his duffel bag from underneath the bed, packed his clothes, toiletries and sentimental items. Making sure to slip the note from his 12th birthday into his pocket. 

 

Tip toeing down the stairs an hour later, he listened for a moment to Kate and Adam in the kitchen. 

“Why can’t we still go out to dinner?”

“Because it’s Dean’s birthday.” 

“But he doesn’t even want to go, I do.” 

Dean knew from experience that Adam would get his way. 

The spoiled brat always did. 

 

Dean slipped out the back door, made his way across the yard to the alley and followed the gravel path to the next street. 

John Winchester knew an awful lot of people in town; it would only be a matter of time before someone noticed his son trekking down the sidewalk with all his worldly possessions in the canvas bag. 

The birthday boy walked fast, using shortcuts between houses whenever possible. 

 

Dean arrived at the bus station, breathing a sigh of relief and aching for the restroom. 

Washing his hands, he noticed a large man exit one of the stalls and run the water in the sink next to him. 

Uncomfortable being that close to a stranger, he dried quickly and headed to the ticket counter. 

An older but very cute blonde stamped his ticket, pointed at the correct gate and informed him he still had two hours to wait. 

 

Dean put in his headphones, blaring his music before pulling out his mom’s card and reading it again. 

Almost an hour later, a pair of police officers began showing a picture to several people, explaining they were looking for a runaway. 

 

Shit. 

 

SHIT SHIT SHIT! 

 

Pulling the hood of his sweat shirt over his head, he attempted to look casual as he picked up the duffle and headed back to the bathroom. 

Locking the handicap stall, he sat on the back of the toilet, bag in his lap and feet resting on the seat. 

Hiding. 

He could hear several people using the urinals, a couple of them used the stalls but no one tried to open the door to his corner haven. 

 

Dean waited as long as he could to return to the departure gate. 

It didn’t matter. 

The cops were still circling the picture; one had taken a post next to his escape route. 

He was going to miss the bus. 

Then he would have to wait another 24 hours before he could catch the next one. 

 

Shit. 

 

SHIT SHIT SHIT! 

 

“You in some kind of trouble, boy?” 

A deep, gruff voice behind him made him jump. 

“No, Sir.” He answered to the burly man he had seen in the restroom earlier. 

“Them cops been showing your picture all over the place.” 

“I was hoping it wasn’t me…” Dean shaking his head. “Are you going to turn me in?” 

“Depends” the guy raising his brows and tilting his head a bit, “where ya headed?” 

“Florida, meet up with my mom and brother.” 

“Then why you hiding?” 

Sighing, Dean glanced over his shoulder before answering. 

“My dad doesn’t know I’m leaving.” 

“Looks like he does to me” the man’s blood shot eyes moving from the cops to Dean and back. 

“Yeah…” 

“I drive truck. Headed to Gainesville, Georgia. You can hitch a ride, that’ll get you close.”

“I…uh…” Dean swallowed, “I don’t do the things other hitchhikers would do…” 

“What things?” the truck driver looked amused. 

“You know…sex things.” 

The man chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Nah, I’m not gay and I’m not a pedophile. You can use a ride and I can use some company. Up to you, kid, but those cops have looked over here twice since we’ve been talking.” 

Not risking a glance back, Dean nodded. 

“Ok, thank you. Really.” 

“C’mon then.” 

 

The 16 year old boy followed the stranger out to the parking lot. 

The man’s truck was parked at the very edge, he pointed it out and they both strolled hurriedly to it. 

Dean rounded the passenger side, the side parked towards the street and climbed in. 

Settling his bag on the floorboard, he checked around the driver for police officers. 

None. 

Thank Chuck! 

“I’m Edgar” the man, offering his hand. 

“Dean” as he politely shook. 

“Well, Dean. Let’s get going.” 

 

They had driven for almost six hours, telling each other their life stories. 

Nothing else to do. 

Dean learned that Edgar’s daughter, 15 year old Emily, was pregnant. 

His wife had died years ago and the girl was on her own during the week while her dad drove truck. 

Edgar learned about Mary and Sam, John, Kate and Adam. 

The driver pulled in to a truck stop around 4am. 

“Ya hungry?” 

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. 

Breakfast the day before, maybe? 

“Yeah, actually…” 

“Thinking maybe I should get food to go, ya know, in case they put your picture on TV or something.” 

Dean hadn’t even thought of that. 

Some crazy ‘Amber Alert’ for him. 

He dug out a $10 bill, handing it to Edgar. 

“Thank you. Cheeseburger, fries and a Coke?” 

Edgar smiled broadly, “Coming right up!” 

 

While the man was gone, Dean jumped out of the cab, watered a nearby tree and stretched his legs a little. 

Edgar seemed like a good guy, he was lucky the truck driver was at the bus station. 

Settling back in to the passenger seat, Dean took out the card and read it again. 

He wished his mom would’ve included a phone number, so he could let her know he’d have to come from Georgia. 

The driver’s side door opened with a squeak, startling him enough to make him yip. 

Edgar chuckled, handing him a Styrofoam container and a bottle of Coke. 

“Jumpy, kid?” 

“Little bit” he grinned, leaning back to open his dinner / breakfast. 

 

They ate in peace, Edgar throwing away their empties before pulling back on to the highway. 

It was quiet for a while, both travelers were talked out. 

Edgar turned on the radio, country music to Dean’s disappointment but he didn’t say a word. 

The digital clock read 5:37am when the boy suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired. 

He dozed off a few times before Edgar reached over and shook his shoulder.

“You gonna get a kink in your neck, sleeping against the window like that. Climb back there,” his head tilted towards the cabin’s sleeper. 

“Um…I don’t…” Dean wasn’t sure he was comfortable on the man’s bed. 

“Well, I don’t wanna listen to ya snore and I ain’t stopping for coffee anytime soon.” Edgar said with humor in his voice. 

Dean gave a small smile. 

“Thank you, really.” 

Edgar nodded and turned his attention back to the road. 

 

Dean laid his head on the pillow, crossed his arms around his middle and closed his eyes. 

 

He was asleep almost instantly.


	3. CASTIEL II

Castiel woke up trapped in a large metal cage. 

Vibrations and rocking told him he was moving. 

A few hard blinks, he surveyed his surroundings. 

There were more pens like his. 

Five more and they were empty. 

Pressing his face against the enclosures gate, he could look down the aisle of a large metal container. 

There was a wide path bordered by the truck’s inventory. 

Cardboard boxes with broad arrows pointing to the words, ‘THIS END UP’. 

No indication to what they could be holding, no manufactures name or address to tell him where he might be. 

 

A rattle from the entrance and a sudden burst of sunshine announced a man’s entry. 

This was a different man than before. 

This one had lighter hair and yellow eyes. 

Cas had never seen yellow eyes before. 

The man carried an unconscious girl with long blonde hair over his shoulder. 

He opened the kennel next to Castiel’s to drop her inside. 

Then the man locked eyes with the boy. 

“Well, hello there.” 

Castiel swallowed nervously, not saying a word. 

“MMmmmm, quiet one huh? I love the quiet ones.” 

And he didn’t think he could be more frightened than he was a minute ago. 

 

He was wrong. 

 

The man crouched down to Castiel’s level. 

“Lucifer will be glad you’re up. He’s been waiting for you.” 

“Azazel!” 

A deeper voice yelled from the trailer’s door. 

“The pretty ones awake, boss.” 

“Good, now come get these other two before they wake up as well.” 

With a shrug and a wink, the yellow eyed man stood and walked back towards the voice. 

The clip-clopping of shiny black shoes echoed down the path, followed by a dark haired man with clear blue eyes. 

“There you are.” The man, Lucifer, lowered himself to meet Castiel’s gaze. 

He stared intently at the boy’s face until Azazel returned with another girl over his shoulder, this one a brunette. 

He dumped her in another cage, turned to retrieve the third, calling over his shoulder, 

“He’s a quiet one, boss.” 

“So he is…” Lucifer’s eyes still hadn’t left Castiel’s face, “What’s your name, sweetheart?” 

Castiel took almost a full minute to find his voice and answer squeakily, 

“C-Castiel, Sir.”

The ‘sir’ was an ingrained response, pounded in to him for years by his father. 

“Beautiful…just beautiful…” 

When the last of the new residents crashed to the ground in her cage, Lucifer stood, brushing off his slacks absently. 

“I think this one’s already been broken.” Lucifer told Azazel as they both turned to leave. 

“If he doesn’t need to be trained, he’ll sell pretty fast….” 

“I don’t think I’ll put him on the menu. Not just yet…” 

The door shut behind them, leaving Castiel with their words echoing through the cavern. 

 

Over the next few hours, Castiel stayed curled at the bottom of his enclosure as each girl, one by one, regained consciousness. 

There was a lot of crying, some screaming and the one next to him kept begging him for answers. 

He didn’t have any so he didn’t speak at all. 

Stayed laying on his side, knees tucked to his chest and head buried. 

 

Castiel dozed in and out, the rhythmic motion of the trailer lulling him in to a light sleep. 

He woke abruptly, heart pounding in his chest when the moving stopped. 

The door to the container opened a few minutes later and the girl’s screams began again. 

It was raining now, air misty, light dim. 

Azazel stomped down the aisle holding a paper bag. 

“Shut up, stupid little sluts!” 

That quieted two of the girl, the third kept rambling on until the angry man reached to his side, pulled out a boxy looking gun, shoved it through the metal grid of her kennel and pulled the trigger. 

Two yellow strings flew across the cage, latching on to the prisoner and delivering a loud buzzing sound. 

 

A Taser. 

 

The girl let out a small squeak before falling to the floor, body shaking violently until Azazel released the lever. 

“Now” he announced loudly, “You’ll do what you’re told or you will be punished. Got it?” 

The other two whimpering girls nodded, the one on the floor couldn’t answer. 

Shaking his head, the tall man set the Taser down and reached in to the bag. 

He slipped a bottle of water and a granola bar in to Castiel's and then the two quiet girls’ pens. 

The third girl remained immobile as he entered her cage and removed her electrodes. 

Azazel didn’t leave food or water for her. 

 

Castiel huddled in the corner of his kennel, sipping water between small bites of granola. 

He had gone hungry often enough to know how to make himself feel fuller.

The other two conscious prisoners ate theirs quickly, talking to one another in loud whispers. 

The blonde one was Jessica; she was taken from a mall. 

The brunette one was Lisa, she and Cassie, the girl laying limply on the ground, were leaving a movie theatre together when someone hit her in the head. 

Both girls kept trying to talk to Castiel. 

Asking him his name, his age, where was he taken from. 

The boy stayed silent, finished his ‘meal’ and returned to a fetal position. 

 

The trailer hadn’t moved in a while, Cas had repositioned himself to sitting in the corner, hugging his legs and resting his forehead on his knees. 

Metal rollers grated against racks and the door opened once again. 

Azazel carried two boys in, one at a time, depositing them in the pair of vacant cages. 

He stopped to glare at the three girls, daring them to speak, glancing over at Castiel with smile before exiting, taking the light and fresh air with him. 

 

They were moving again. 

Castile needed to pee. 

Desperately. 

Given a choice between wetting himself or pissing on the floor of his pen, he decided on a third option. 

Turning his back to the other prisoners, he knelt in the corner to relieve himself in to the empty water bottle. 

The noise the liquid made as it hit the bottom of the plastic container was loud and humiliating, more than the whispers of ‘ew’ and ‘gross’ from the girls. 

Whatever. 

Wait until they have to pee. 

 

The taller of the two new recruits woke up first. 

He mumbled for a few minutes before instantly being overrun with questions and cries from the trio of girls. 

Those chics were really starting to get on Castiel’s nerves. 

He was as scared as they were, maybe even more, but he was smart enough to make himself quiet and still.

His father trained him well. 

 

By the time the new guy grasped reality, the second kid was dragging himself out of unconsciousness too. 

The first boy’s name was Ash. 

He was tall, had short hair in the front and long hair in the back. 

Spoke with just a hint of a Southern accent and seemed very intelligent.

The second kid’s name was Garth. 

He was skinnier than Ash, had shorter hair and just rambled on and on. 

Castiel decided he must be a nervous talker because even after his friend told him to ‘shut up’ he continued on about articles he had read. 

Kids being kidnapped. 

Sold as sex slaves. 

Murdered for their organs. 

All of his theories were making the girls worse. 

Ash’s continues demands that he be quiet were ignored. 

 

“I’m serious. This stuff happens all the time. You see it in movies and watch it on the news. We’re all dead, man, DEAD. No way they’re letting any of us go. No way they…” 

“Garth! For the love of Chuck! Shut the fuck up!” Ash hollered for the hundredth time. 

The girls started yelling at him too; Cas kept his head down and stayed out of all the noise. 

Their transportation halted again. 

All the cages were full though. 

 

It was dark out now; Castiel inhaled the night air deeply as he listened to the approaching footsteps. 

“There’s an awful lot of noise in here.” 

Lucifer. 

“You won’t get away with this you know. The more people you take the higher risk you have of getting caught. Whatcha gonna do with us anyway? Cut us up in to little pieces? Sell us?” Garth stood, rattling his cage.

“You, young man, aren’t worth very much with that mouth. I suggest you quiet down. It’s clean up time.” 

‘Clean up time?’

Garth didn’t listen; he continued to quote statistics and articles he read. 

Ash begged and pleaded with his friend to shut his mouth but nothing stopped him. 

Until Azazel arrived. 

“Room's ready, boss.” 

“Start with the girls, have Ruby help.”

Garth hadn’t even paused to take a breath, Azazel glared at him before looking expectantly at Lucifer. 

With a single nod, the man in charge gave the silent order. 

 

The yellow eyed man left the females where they were to open the latch on Garth’s cage, joining him in the enclosure. 

Sounds of fists hitting flesh echoed through the trailer. 

Ash was screaming for the man to stop, the trio of girls were hiding their faces and weeping. 

Azazel continued the beating as Garth continued to speak. 

‘Shut up!’ Castiel thought. 

The kid didn’t know when to quit! 

Cas had his hands over his ears and his face buried in his lap by the time Azazel finished. 

Garth was dead and Ash was on his knees, clawing at the fencing between their kennels. 

“You bastard. You son of a bitch. You evil prick” The taller boy continued to hurl insults and threats towards the man between sobs of grief. 

Azazel looked at Lucifer again, this time his boss shook his head and the man reached for his Taser instead. 

Zapping through the grates, the probes landed perfectly on Ash’s chest and the kid fell to the ground, seizing until the yellow eyed man released him. 

 

“Now…” Lucifer began, strolling down the aisle, ignoring the footprints he left in Garth continuing pool of blood. “Anyone else have something to say?” 

Lisa, Jessica and Cassie all shook their heads. 

Castiel still had his buried. 

He had yet to say a word since telling Lucifer his name. 

“Good. Seems clean up time has been unappreciated. Azazel, dump the body, hose out the cage and wash off the animals so we can move on.” 

“Sure thing, boss.” 

 

Cas didn’t realize Lucifer had crouched by his cage until the man spoke. 

“Castiel” 

Raising his tear streaked face; he looked up at the older man. 

“Would you like out of your cage for a while?” 

It was a trick. 

A test. 

It had to be. 

 

Fuck it! 

 

Cas swallowed his suspicions and nodded. 

 

“Good…” Lucifer, giving a toothy grin. 

 

Maybe Castiel should have said ‘no’.


	4. DEAN II

Dean woke up in Edgar’s sleeper compartment having no idea how long he had been out. 

When he attempted to stretch, his arms wouldn’t obey. 

Opening emerald eyes, he had to wiggle around in the dark a few moments before realizing what the problem was. 

His wrists were bound behind his back, ankles wrapped together with a generous amount of duct tape, more of the same over his mouth. 

 

WHAT THE FUCK?!

 

Rolling from his side to his back, tolerating the pressure on his shoulders long enough to tilt his body towards the cab. 

“MMMFFHHH!” Dean hollered against the gag. 

“Well, hello sleepy head.” Edgar moved the curtain aside with his right hand, controlling the steering wheel with his left as he gave the shortest of glances over his shoulder. 

“Usually Rohypol doesn’t last that long, you’ve been out for almost twelve hours. But, good news, we’re almost there.” 

 

Dean doubted ‘almost there’ was Georgia. 

 

It was late in the evening when Edgar finally pulled the truck in to another truck stop. 

The driver jumped out, leaving the door open but Dean could only make out mumblings and whispers between Edgar and a mystery man. 

His abductor climbed back in, jerking Dean out of the sleeper by his ankles and tugging him over his shoulder only to hand him off to the stranger. 

The boy struggled, tried to kick with bound feet but the second guy completely ignored him, moving to the back of another semi’s trailer. 

The metal door slid open, the air of the container much warmer than outside, he found himself hoisted inside; watching upside down cardboard boxes flow past him. 

Dean was dropped into a cage, hitting his back and head soundly against the hard, wet floor. 

The man looked down at him with yellow eyes, pulling a knife from his boot. 

“Gonna cut that tape off, I suggest you stay still if you don’t want an accident.” 

Somewhere between the Roofies and the bump to his head, Dean’s fighting instinct took a break and he nodded. 

A few slits to his ankles and wrist, followed by a painful rip of adhesive from his mouth and the boy was free. 

Well, as free as he could be in a dog kennel. 

 

The man left without another word, door sliding him in to the darkness. 

A variety of voices began asking questions, it took a few minutes for his green eyes to adjust to the low light before he could make out the sources. 

Three girls, a tall guy with a messed up haircut and an empty cage across from him. 

“Hey man. You ok?” the kid next to him kneeling to his level. 

“Nah…not even a little bit.” Dean, raising himself to a rest against the corner. 

“Yeah…guess not. I’m Ash.” 

“Dean.” 

“Lisa” came the voice of one of the girls, followed by “Cassie” and “Jessica”. 

They all wore matching gray sweat suits, hair damp; faces red. 

 

“So…you guys know what the fuck is going on?” 

“Garth said sex trafficking or organ harvesting.” Jess offered. 

“Who’s Garth?” 

“My best friend, Azazel beat him to death, right there in that cage.” Ash answered through clenched teeth, eyes glassy but refusing to produce tears. 

“Holy shit…” 

“Yeah…” 

The five captives exchanged abduction stories, locations and ages. 

Dean’s vision cleared enough for him to begin studying the construction of each enclosure. 

He thought he might be able to kick the hinges loose on the gate. 

Before he could actually try it, the entrance squealed open again and Azazel returned. 

A smaller boy, same gray sweats, same wet hair, followed the man in. 

The yellow eyed man opened the empty kennel and the kid entered without hesitation. 

“Good boy, Castiel” The man praised with a smirk. 

The boy, ‘Castiel’ flinched at his voice, settling himself on the wet ground, back to everyone as he curled in to a ball. 

 

The trailer stayed in dead silence for a while after Azazel slammed the door shut once again. 

They started moving; the only sound echoing through the container was very soft crying, coming from Castiel’s pen. 

“What happened to him?” Dean whispered loudly to Ash. 

“I can only imagine, man. Nothing good, I’m sure. He don’t talk to anyone. Think he’s been here the longest, right Lisa?”

The brunette nodded, “He was here when we woke up.” 

“Hey…hey kid. Castiel…” 

The boy didn’t move, showed no indication he heard Dean at all. 

 

With a shake of his head and a loud sigh, Dean went back to examine the cage’s door. 

He sat down, moved his feet to the hinges and began kicking. 

The other captives moved closer to the front of their pens, watching Dean intently. 

It took a while, half hour maybe, but the metal bowed out and the top hinge snapped loose. 

A quiet round of cheers and encouragement erupted around him but he didn’t look up, simply moved his focus to the lower joint and began again. 

It was easier this time with the top already loose, the door popped again, only attached by the locking mechanism now. 

Dean bent the metal grid just enough to slip through. 

Ash and the trio of girls stood expectantly at their cage entrances, Castiel still hadn’t moved. 

Didn’t even raise his head through all the noise and commotion. 

Dean went kennel by kennel, placing a finger over his lips before freeing each prisoner quietly. 

They all moved to the back of the trailer, the plan being to jump out the next time Azazel opened the door. 

 

When Dean opened Castiel’s cage, the boy remained still and quiet. 

“C’mon, kid. Let’s go.” 

It was as if Cas didn’t hear him at all. 

Dean reached in to shake the kids shoulder, pull him out of his stupor so they could escape. 

The boy whimpered, moved away from the touch, curling in to himself even tighter. 

 

The truck came to a sudden stop, knocking most of the escapees off their feet for a moment. 

When the door lifted this time, four captives jumped out around Azazel, Dean was still crouched in Castiel’s cage. 

 

Shit. 

 

SHIT SHIT SHIT! 

 

The yellow eyed man turned to give chase as another asshole strolled casually in to the trailer. 

“Well, now. Aren’t you a clever boy?” 

Castiel released another soft whimper, Dean climbed out of the boy’s pen, facing off against a tall man, jet black hair and the lightest blue eyes Dean had ever seen. 

“Yeah…and aren’t you a sick fuck?” 

The smile the guy delivered was nothing short of terrifying. 

“You have no idea, kid.” 

The Taser came out of nowhere, hitting Dean straight in the chest, amplified by the water under his shoes, knocking him boneless to the floor. 

Crouching next to the boy, the man tugged the electrodes from Dean’s chest, yanking him up by his shirt collar and growling in to his face. 

“I am Lucifer. Just as sick and evil as the original. And you? You have pissed me off.” 

The sudden clip to his jaw knocked Dean back in to the darkness. 

 

He awoke to crying, loud heart wrenching sobs. 

After shaking his head a few times, his first thought was of the phenomenal pain shooting through his shoulders. 

Lucifer had pinned him up, hanging him by chains from a hook above. 

All his weight carried by his wrists while he was unconscious. 

Now he could stand on his feet, relieving the stress just a little bit. 

 

Everyone was back in their cages. 

Ash lay asleep, (knocked out) on the bottom his. 

The girls each displayed a variety of black eyes, split lips and bloody noses. 

Castiel still hadn’t moved. 

In fact, Lucifer and Azazel hadn’t even bothered to latch his kennel closed. 

 

“I thought you were dead.” Cassie whispered. 

“Nah…” his voice rough, throat raw, “Not yet anyway. What happened?” 

“Azazel wasn’t the only guard, we never had a chance. Lucifer was out-of-his-mind furious. Ash fought the hardest; his head hit the wall three times before he passed out.” Jessica explained. 

“Fuck…” Dean breathed, laying his head back “Sorry guys, I made things worse.” 

“That’s bullshit.” Ash’s drowsy voice answered from nowhere. “At least you had a plan. We’ve all been sitting here whining.” 

 

When the door slid open once again, Lucifer entered, clicking his fancy footwear down the aisle with a single bottle of water and a protein bar. 

Everyone remained quiet, waiting to see what the demon would do next. 

He opened Castiel’s enclosure, crouched next to the boy, stroking black locks. 

“You were such a good boy, Castiel. Not running when these other animals did.” 

The kid remained silent, still. 

Lucifer left the water and snack by Cas’s back, before standing to glare at the others. 

“When you’ve learned your lesson, you can eat and clean up again. Until then, keep your mouths shut.” 

Turning attention to Dean trapped in chains. 

“You ruined your home, clever boy. Now you’ll have to stay like that until you’re sold.” 

The man turned, stomping back to the exit, putting the group in the dark again. 

 

They were in motion again, wheels vibrating rapidly over pavement. 

After the truck had traveled a few miles, the silent, small boy rolled over to sit up. 

Castiel opened his water, too a small sip. 

Removed the wrapper of his ‘dinner’, tearing off a piece, chewing it slowly. 

After another drink, he stood. 

 

The five others watched in fascination, as if they were witnessing a miracle of some sort. 

 

Cas left his pen, moving to Lisa’s gate. 

He tore a piece of his granola bar off, pushing it through the silver grid. 

The brunette blinked a few times before accepting the offering. 

Castiel filled the cap five times, carefully slipping it through the square. 

Lisa drinking each sip before handing it back. 

“Thank you.” 

He didn’t even look up at her, just moved to Cassie and started the same routine again. 

When he had split the food and water between the caged prisoners, he moved to Dean. 

 

Castiel had to look up to place the last piece of food in Dean’s mouth. 

He tipped the rim of the plastic bottle against the bigger boy’s lips, pouring in to his mouth with the smallest amount dripping down his chin. 

“Thank you, Castiel.” 

Cas raised beautiful, sad blue eyes up to meet Dean’s gaze. 

“I am sorry.” He whispered softly. 

“Sorry? For sharing?” 

“No…” he fidgeted, shoving the protein bars wrapper in to the empty water bottle. “You…you tried to help me. You might have gotten away if you had not waited for me. I am sorry.” 

There were tears in his voice, his cheeks pink with shame. 

“Hey… no, man. I’d would’ve gotten my ass kicked same as everyone else. Not your fault, ok?” 

Castiel shook his head, moving back to his cage, clicking the door behind him. 

The boy set the garbage in the corner, lay on the ground, returning to the fetal position and shutting back down. 

 

The five captives were humbled. 

 

Cas didn’t have enough food to stave off his own hunger but he had split what he could between them. 

Dean wasn’t sure anyone else in the container would have done the same thing. 

 

No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t get the boy to move or speak to them again.

 

It was as if he simply wasn’t there anymore.


	5. SAM

12 year old Sam Winchester sat in the passenger seat of his mom’s minivan on the way to pick up his brother from the bus station. 

He hadn’t seen Dean in four years. 

A bright light and a saber to his temple caused Sam to double over in pain, images flashed through his mind like watching a home movie in fast forward. 

Mary immediately pulled the van over. 

“Sam? Sammy? What is it?” 

“Dean…” he panted, “He’s not on a bus…” 

“What? Where is he?” 

“I see chains, cages, boxes.”

“Honey, are you sure?” 

Sam raised his head to gift his mother with a glare. 

“Sorry, sweetheart.” 

 

Mary should know by now that every single nightmare, ever single vision came true. 

She knew better than to ask if he was sure. 

Sam was always sure. 

 

The premonitions started when he was 8 years old. 

At first it was only bad dreams and then he found out they were predicting the future. 

Like when his best friend, Gabriel, got in to a car accident with his grandmother. 

And when a school shooting happened on the East Coast. 

 

And when his father cheated on is mother, the affair resulting in a pregnancy. 

 

Sam didn’t tell anyone about his visions except his mom. 

And he wouldn’t have told her if he hadn’t known what his dad was doing. 

He didn’t even tell Dean. 

 

When Mary confronted John with the information, the man tried to deny it until his wife made a phone call to Kate Milligan. 

She let Sam’s ability slip out in the argument and her husband immediately contacted a mental hospital. 

He declared his youngest son insane, delusional and psychotic, insisting he be institutionalized. 

Sam’s mother would never let that happen. 

Just after lunch on Dean’s 12th birthday, Mary pulled Sam out of school, both of their belongings packed in the back of the van. 

 

They had to get as far away from John as possible. 

Had to find a way to legally block Sam’s dad. 

 

And they left Dean behind. 

 

Sam begged Mary, pleaded to go back and get his older brother. 

But Dean had always looked up to his father, respected him regardless of how he was treated and their mother couldn’t take the chance that his loyalty would put Sam back in danger. 

Her youngest son told her she was wrong, Dean would never pick John over Sammy. 

Dean’s love for his baby brother would always outweigh his respect for his father. 

 

“Dean is in danger…ok, ok…can you see anything else? A way to identify it?” 

“The boxes don’t have any labels, everyone is dressed the same except for him. I can’t tell what the room is; it looks like a truck trailer. Mom, we have to get help. Go to the police.” 

“Sammy…we tried that before with the last hurricane.” 

“It’s Dean, Mom! I don’t care if they call me crazy. They can check the bus station; see that he didn’t get on the bus and that he’s missing. He’s in danger…” 

The 12 year old boy buried his face in his hands and cried. 

 

This wasn’t the first image he had of Dean over the last four years. 

He saw Dean’s reaction to John’s indiscretion. 

Saw Dean reading Mom’s letter, over and over. 

Eventually convinced his mom that Dean would be on their side. 

His big brother was 16 now, he could make it to Florida on his own and hopefully, when Mary explained everything, Dean could forgive them. 

 

Now Dean was chained somewhere, Sammy couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt at insisting his mom send for him. 

He should be home safe. 

Sam needed another flash, another picture to give him a clue to finding Dean. 

 

As predicted, the local police and even the sheriff rolled their eyes and dismissed them. 

Mary called Lawrence and, sure enough, Dean had been reported missing, posters nailed to telephone poles and very angry John Winchester berating officers to do more. 

“Maybe we should go back to Kansas…look for him….” 

“Mom! He’s not there. He’s not there and Dad will be even more determined to lock me away if I tell them I saw Dean in a vision. If he wasn’t pissed before, he will be when he finds out you sent for him.”

“Language, young man!” 

“What? ‘pissed’? “ 

“Yes…’pissed’. We need to get you home and relaxed, see if you can get another picture that’ll help.” 

Sam nodded sadly; he didn’t have a better plan. 

 

On the drive back, Mary’s phone rang, she put it on speaker, hoping for good news. 

“Hello?” 

“Mrs. Winchester?” 

“Yes.”

“This is Agent Henriksen from the FBI.”

“The FBI?” glancing over at Sam with wide eyes. 

“Yes ma’am. I was hoping to speak to you about your son’s disappearance.” 

“Yes...yes...of course…um…is there an office we should come to?”

“No, I’d like to come to you, if that’s convenient.” 

Mary rattled off their address, hung up and hit the accelerator with a heavy foot. 

 

After introductions and coffee offered, Mary, Sam and Agent Henriksen settled in the living room. 

“I work in the division of the FBI that investigates Human Trafficking.” 

“Like…sex slaves?” Sammy asked, having watched reports on the news. 

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” 

“And you think Dean is going to what? Be sold?” Mary asked in loud, shocked whisper. 

“It’s a possibility I think we should look in to.”

“Why…I mean, what makes you think that?” 

“Your description of the trailer, the use of cages and chains.” 

“But why would you believe me? No one else will take us seriously.” 

“I’ve had some success using psychics. The things I have seen over the course of my career, I’m more open-minded than some of my colleges.” 

“Thank you…”Mary offered softly, eyes closed as if sending up a silent prayer of gratitude. 

 

Sam relayed each and every detail he could recall from his vision. 

Henriksen gathered as much information as possible from Lawrence authorities. 

And Mary did something she loathed. 

She called John. 

 

Sam could only hear her side of the conversation and that was from two rooms away. 

Mary thought it best to keep him out of earshot. 

But the boy could still make out the fact that John blamed his mom and wasn’t going to be much help. 

He wouldn’t believe Sam’s visions or entertain the idea that Dean could be in danger of being sold. 

Henriksen and Mary left Sam to attempt and relax, hopefully be able to sleep and connect with Dean again. 

 

-it was dark-

-a girl, expansive brown eyes brimming with fear-

-Dean- 

-Dean shaking his head- 

-sudden daylight- 

-a man, tall, big nose-

-too bright to see him clearly- 

-Dean yelling-

-the girl crying- 

-the man reaching for them-

 

Sam woke up with a start, heart racing, head propelled off the pillow, sitting upright, panting. 

He took a few minutes to control his breathing, searching through the details of the nightmare before stumbling sleepily down the hall to share his vision. 

 

Without the ability to define the tall man outside, Henriksen sent for a sketch artist to illustrate Sam’s description of the girl. 

 

If they could identify her, it may get them a step closer to Dean. 

 

And to the people responsible.


	6. CASTIEL III

Castiel shadowed Lucifer to the back of the trailer. 

The man jumped down, turning to grip the boy by the waist and lower him to ground. 

Taking Cas’s hand, Lucifer led him from the side of a motel to the nearest room. 

 

Castiel was confident now that he had made the wrong decision. 

 

The boy stood, staring at the beige carpet, fidgeting with his fingers. 

Lucifer shut the door behind them, sighing before moving in front of Cas. 

 

“The others will be hosed down in their cages, changed in to clean clothing without the benefit of toweling off or privacy. You, pretty Castiel, have been such a good boy. I’m going to let you shower properly.” 

Cas’s heart sped up so quickly, he experienced a moment of vertigo before raising his head to acknowledge that Lucifer spoke. 

Getting naked in a room with this man was horrifying. 

He wished he would’ve stayed in his cage to get ‘hosed off’. 

 

Lucifer moved to the bathroom, switched on the light and pointed inside. 

“Go ahead, clean up. You’ll leave your clothing on the floor and dress in the outfit there. Nothing but the sweats, Castiel. No t-shirt, no underwear, understand?” 

With a loud gulp, Cas nodded, “Yes, Sir.” 

“Good boy.” 

 

Once inside, with the door shut, Castiel took several deep breathes with his eyes closed. 

He decided the faster he showered, the faster he could get back to the safety of his kennel. 

 

Twisted but true. 

 

He washed obediently, abandoning his dirty clothes and dressing as he was told. 

The gray sweat suit was brand new, still stiff and tagged. 

Castiel took a few minutes to gather his courage before opening the door, steam following him out of the room. 

 

Lucifer sat on the foot of one of the beds, cell phone to one ear and a burning cigarette in his free hand. 

The man looked up, scanning Castiel’s appearance before returning his attention to the call. 

“Yes. We can be there by 6 tomorrow. I’m full right now, might unload a couple on the way but I’ll keep my best for you to choose from. Good…good… bye then.” 

He pressed a button on the devices screen, snuffed his cigarette in a nearby tray and stood to face Cas. 

“Much better.” Lucifer grinned. 

Castiel couldn’t help but take a single step back as the man approached, couldn’t fight flinching as the man reached out to stroke his cheek. 

“Who conditioned you?” Lucifer asked. 

Cas looked up at the man’s face, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Trained you…” 

“I-I am sorry, Sir. I do not u-understand.” 

Lucifer cupped Castiel’s face with both hands, locking gazes. 

“Someone hurt you, taught you to obey without question.” 

“Oh…” the boys blinked, “My father was…very strict, Sir.” 

“You hate him?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Chuckling at the promptness of Cas’s response, “What he taught you will probably keep you alive.” 

Castiel simply stared at the man as if he were speaking a foreign language. 

“You want to do as you’re told, to avoid punishment. Like now…” 

 

Castiel shuttered when Lucifer leaned down to kiss him. 

He should have known this was going to happen. 

Should have expected it. 

But somewhere in the depths of his mind, he had prayed to Chuck that he could shower and that would be all. 

Stupid

Stupid 

Stupid 

Lucifer pulled the new sweatshirt over Castiel’s head and the boy made no attempt to fight or resist. 

What was the point? 

This was happening. 

The man ran fingertips over several healing red welts, inducing Cas’s body to cover itself in goosebumps. 

“So responsive…” Lucifer whispered. 

Castiel was shivering, face hot, head pounding as his blood rushed through his heart. 

Lucifer moved to tug the loose sweats down, the boy couldn’t swallow down the whimper in throat. 

“Such a good boy…” the man exhaled. 

He didn’t protest. 

Didn’t beg or plead. 

Simply allowed Lucifer to maneuver him over to the bed, pressing Castiel down, knees on the floor, upper body resting on the mattress. 

His ass completely exposed.

He shut his eyes tightly but that did nothing to keep the tears from coming. 

At the sound of Lucifer’s zipper being lowered, Cas clenched his fists in to the bedspread, biting his bottom lip until it bled. 

A click of a cap opening, squishing sound of gel being squeezed out, followed by a cool, wet finger probing at his entrance. 

“Relax…it hurts less if you relax. You’ve been so good, Castiel. So good. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

 

Bullshit 

 

It took several exhales for the boy to loosen his muscles enough for the digit to press in to him. 

It burned. 

A raw, red pain that increased as Lucifer explored further. 

Castiel laid limp, eyes closed; comparing his current pain to the agony his father was able to produce. 

Trying to convince himself that this was somehow better. 

It wasn’t. 

After Lucifer pumped the single finger inside of him several times, he slipped a second alongside it, burning and stretching Castiel more. 

Cas lay still, occasionally pulling away out of self-preservation, only to be tugged back, given soft demands to ‘relax’ and ‘breathe’. 

As if either of those was possible. 

A third digit and Castiel cried out, gripping the bedspread tightly, while he buried his face. 

If Lucifer called him a ‘good boy’ one more time, Cas was sure he would throw up. 

 

The fingers were removed and the boy had a few moments to sigh in relief before the squishing noise repeated and another dollop of lube was pressed in to his hole. 

Then something much bigger than a finger pushed slowly inside and he screamed his throat bloody, sounds caught by the mattress. 

“Aw…fuck…you’re so damn tight.” Lucifer panted behind him. 

 

‘let it end’ 

‘let him finish’ 

‘let it be over’ 

 

Castiel’s mind repeated again and again. 

He concentrated on those pleas. 

Linking the words to a melody and singing it to himself in his head. 

It was his best effort to separate himself from what was happening to his body. 

 

Lucifer was repeating words too. 

“So tight…” 

“So good for me…” 

“Aw fuck…” 

“Yes…” 

Finally, the man tensed; pulled out quickly to release hot ropes of cum over Castiel’s back. 

Lucifer continued to curse and praise between panting; then Cas felt him step away. 

The boy didn’t move, simply sobbed in to the blanket below, tears and snot leaving streaks. 

“Stay still.”

Castiel heard water running and the sound of Lucifer’s zipper going back up before feeling a wet clothe wiping his hind end. 

The man cleaned his back, his hole and his thighs, leaving twice to rinse and rewet the rag. 

“You can dress, Castiel.” Lucifer told him, deceptively gentle. 

 

Shaking violently, Cas stood on weak legs, shuffling to the crumpled sweat suit on the floor. 

He almost fell, lifting one foot to tug on his pants, Lucifer caught him and Castiel whimpered. 

“SSShhhhh let me help you…” 

He was too tired, too shocked and hurt to do anything but rest his hands on the man’s shoulders as he stepped in to his sweats, Lucifer dressing him as if he were three years old. 

 

Cas never stopped crying or shaking. 

Lucifer cupped his face, forcing his head up and looking at his glassy, red rimmed eyes. 

“You’re such a good boy, Castiel. Next time won’t hurt as much, eventually you’ll learn to enjoy that.” 

 

Bullshit 

 

The man kissed him the forehead, Cas choking back the bile that seared his throat. 

When Lucifer reached for his hand, Castiel followed him gladly. 

Out of that room. 

Back in to the trailer. 

Where he would be left alone in his safe, wonderful cage. 

Azazel was there to help him inside, every single move his small body made producing nothing short of agony and when the man held the door to his pen open, Cas gratefully entered. 

The yellow eyed man whispered “Good boy” before leaving the compartment and slamming the door shut. 

Castiel lay down on the floor in the fetal position, back to the rest of the captives and sang that melody in his head:

 

‘let it end’ 

‘let him finish’ 

‘let it be over’ 

 

He cried for a while before falling in to a dreary place, somewhere between sleep and awake. 

Castiel could hear the other prisoners talking, thought he heard his name but blocked all of them out. 

He imagined a world where his father died instead of his mother. 

In this world, his dad had a life insurance policy so he and his mom never had to worry about money again. 

Never went hungry or had the electricity turned off. 

There wouldn’t have been a reason for him to hide in the woods at night. 

No chance that he would be kidnapped…or worse… 

 

Suddenly, his cage opened and a new voice was begging him to get up. 

To leave. 

Didn’t the stranger understand that resisting made things worse? 

Trying to escape would get him killed. 

As much as he hurt, Castiel knew he didn’t want to die. 

 

Even as he called himself a weak coward, Cas stayed in his ball, eyes clenched shut and hands over his ears. 

There were crashes and yelling. 

Wailing cries and thumps against metal. 

Then it was suddenly very quiet. 

Castiel felt as if hours had passed, lingering in purgatory before his cage opened. 

 

Lucifer was back. 

 

Oh, God. 

Not again. 

Not so soon. 

The man stroked his hair a few times; spoke gentle words that Cas blocked out. 

Lucifer settled another water and snack in his pen, telling the others they wouldn’t eat before stomping out. 

 

They were moving again. 

Castiel’s stomach betrayed him, growling loudly, so he reluctantly sat up. 

He opened the water, drank the smallest of swallows; pulled the wrapper from the granola bar and eating a single bite of the clustered oats. 

Cas took another sip, forcing himself up on wobbly legs, pushed his cage open. 

 

Without a word, or dreaded eye contact, he made his way around each kennel, offering a small piece of his ‘meal’ and capfuls of his water. 

He knew what it was like to go hungry and although this tiny amount of sustenance wouldn’t satisfy any of them, Castiel would let himself starve to death before eating in front of famished people. 

 

The new guy, the only one not wearing damp, gray sweats, hung painfully from chains. 

This was the one who had tried to convince Cas to escape with him. 

He gave the boy the rest of the community ‘dinner’ and the stranger thanked him as everyone else had. 

Castiel looked up at the greenest eyes he had ever seen and in a dry, raw whisper, apologized. 

“Sorry? For sharing?” a deep voice asked, unbelieving.

“No…you…you tried to help me. You might have gotten away if you had not waited for me. I am sorry.” 

He couldn’t meet the guy’s gaze anymore, moving his attention to the trash in his hand instead. 

“Hey… no, man. I would’ve gotten my ass kicked same as everyone else. Not your fault, ok?” 

Cas shuffled back to his pen, tossing the trash in the corner and then laid back down in to his favorite position, starting the sing-song in his mind again before drifting back to his fantasy world. 

Where his clothes fit. 

Where his mom was healthy and smiled. 

 

Where there wasn’t any blood seeping through the back of his pants. 

 

Somewhere far away from here.


	7. DEAN III

The other prisoners were asleep, it was late and they hadn’t stopped in a long time. 

As exhausted as Dean was, he couldn’t doze off for more than a couple minutes before his weight would shift entirely to his shoulders and wrists; he would yank awake to stand up again.

The sound of Castiel’s gate opening again startled him, it had been completely silent and he thought the kid was asleep too. 

 

Cas stepped out, moving towards the aisle to lift one of the cardboard boxes off a pallet. 

He brought it over to where Dean hung, set it down in front of his feet and looked expectantly at the older boy. 

Dean stepped up on to the box, taking almost all the strain off his shoulders and sighed. 

With a grin, “You’re smarter than the average bear, huh Cas?” 

The blue eyed boy shrugged, “I just see things differently.” 

Castiel was as relaxed as Dean had seen him, must have been the extended absence of Lucifer. 

He itched to ask the kid about leaving the trailer with their abductor, but decided against it. 

Guy would probably shut down again. 

 

Instead, Dean tried small talk. 

“I was on my way to see my mom and brother, hitched a ride with a shady mother fucker, practically served myself up on a silver platter for this shit.”

Castiel leaned back against the nearest stack of cardboard, “I was walking home in the dark.” 

Dean shook his head, “Fucked up world we have here, Cas.” 

The smaller boy nodded in agreement. 

“He said we would be somewhere at 6 tomorrow. Said some of us might be sold along the way. You have to stop fighting. The more you resist, the more you will be hurt.” 

“Stop fighting? No way, man. I’m going down swinging. I can’t just give up, wait around for someone to kick the shit out of me or rape me up the ass.” 

As soon as those words left his mouth, he regretted them. 

Castiel looked up at him as if he had been punched in the stomach, mouth slightly open, inhaling without exhaling, eyes wide. 

“Shit…that’s what…what they do to you…” Dean murmured, watching as the boy shut down right in front of him. 

“I’m sorry, Castiel. Really…I didn’t mean to…” 

His apologies fell on deaf ears, Cas had stopped listening, moving robotically back to his pen to make himself as small as possible. 

“That was fucked up, Dean-O” Ash’s voice creeped from behind him. 

“I didn’t know. I mean, I thought they might be but…kinda hoped it wasn’t true. I didn’t think before I opened my mouth.” 

“I’ve never heard him talk that much. Not to any of us and not to Lucifer. The box thing was pretty smart; he keeps trying to help everyone but himself.” 

“Yeah…we gotta get him out of here. Seriously, he needs to escape more than any of us.” 

“But he won’t” Ash sighed, “That kid's giving up already.” 

 

The container fell back in to silence; the only sound was the wheels beneath them turning on asphalt. 

Tilting his head to rest against his upper arm, Dean found himself able to sleep for small increments, no longer jerking awake. 

 

When the truck slammed to a stop several hours later, Castiel ninja-ed noiselessly to return the box to its rightful place, sliding in to his pen and feigning sleep before the door rolled open again. 

Dean had trouble catching up to reality, where he was and why he couldn’t move. 

Bright morning light burned his retinas; he tossed his head a few times before focusing on the men headed towards them. 

Mumblings from Ash and the girls behind him caused him to glance over his shoulder for just a second before Lucifer grabbed his chin, wrenching his face forward. 

“This one” the man started, explaining to a tall, skinny stranger behind him, “Has given more than his fair share trouble. Organized a jailbreak and almost lost me four pets.” 

“Breaking them is half the fun, Lucifer.” The man responded in a nasally voice.

“Then you’ll have a good time with that one, Alastair. The kid over there” points to Ash, “Likes to mouth off a bit and the only female that has shown an ounce of rebellion is this one” indicating Cassie. 

Alastair brushed past Dean to squint his eyes at Ash and then Cassie before his attention turned to Castiel. 

“What about that one?” 

“That one is mine, for now. Already broken, not your type, Alastair.” Lucifer responded with a grin. 

“Your's for now? I’ve never heard of you keeping a pet before…he must be special, huh?” 

“Until I get an offer I can’t refuse, he stays with me. So…you interested in any of them or you want to wait for next shipment?” 

“I want this one” the man pushed his boney finger in to Dean’s back, hard enough to make him swing slightly on his chains, “and that girl” pointing at Lisa instead of Cassie. 

Lisa was instantly crying; shaking her head and giving Lucifer a pleading stare. 

“Sounds good, you want them knocked out for transport?”

“That would be appreciated…” Alastair rounded to look Dean in the face, gripping his jaw, studying defiant green eyes. “This one…I think I’m really going to enjoy.” 

Dean inhaled as much as his lungs would allow, formed a circle with his lips and spit every drop of available salvia in the asshole’s face. 

Ash and the girls gasped in shock, Castiel continue to hide his face and Alastair smiled, allowing the assault to drip down his cheek. 

He backhanded Dean hard enough to swing his restraints, splitting a small cut in his lip. 

With an insolent glare, the boy looked up under hooded lids, “That all you got, cock sucker?” 

Alastair threw back his head and laughed a terrifying sound that brought a chill to Dean’s tough guy act. 

“Oh…Lucifer…this one is absolutely priceless.” He finally pulled a handkerchief from his inner jacket pocket, wiping Dean’s DNA from his skin. 

“Thought you’d like him.” Lucifer smirked. “Come; let’s settle up, Azazel will load them for you.” 

 

The two deviant men exited in tandem, leaving Cassie and Jessica to try and calm Lisa down who had gone from freaking out to full hysterics. 

Dean’s jade eyes wanted to cry too, but he wasn’t going to let that happen. 

No chance he was going to show one ounce of weakness, especially in front of Lisa. 

He needed to be strong for her. 

 

“Dean…” 

Castiel’s small, shy voice surprised him. 

“Hey ya Cas…sorry for…” 

“No” the kid interrupted, pleading sapphire gaze looking up at him, “Do not…do not let that man break you. You…do not have to be like me. Promise.” 

Somehow, someway, Castiel’s words put him over the edge; he lost his resolve as a single, fat tear drop crept down his cheek. 

“I swear, but you have to promise too. You’re a smart kid, you get a chance to get free, and you go. Got it?” 

“I understand.” Cas whispered and Dean couldn’t help but notice that the boy hadn’t given his word. 

 

Azazel stumbled up in to the container, carrying a very large, very scary hypodermic needle. 

He pushed past Dean, opening Lisa’s pen as the girl screamed and crammed herself in to a corner. 

“You leave her alone, asshole. Leave her alone!” knowing his words were useless but unable to keep his mouth shut. 

Twisting his head around as much as he could, he watched Azazel stab the needle in to Lisa’s thigh and push the plunger down, the mystery drug entering her body and she calmed almost instantly. 

She wasn’t unconscious, just…dazed. 

Her brown eyes dilated and unfocused, she allowed the man to pick her up smoothly, toting her down the aisle without resistance. 

Cassie was sobbing now, even louder than Lisa had been. 

None of Jessica’s soft words were helping. 

“Fuck man…” Ash sighed, resting his forehead against the silver grates. 

 

The yellow eyed man returned with another syringe filled with poison. 

Dean struggled; he kicked and twisted, finally gifting Azazel with a head butt to the face. 

“Damn it!” the man spit through clenched teeth as blood dripped out of one nostril. 

Dean’s moment of triumph was short lived; a stabbing pain followed by a burning sensation that spread throughout his body cut his victory. 

He was tired, so fucking tired, fighting to keep his eyes open. 

“There, that’s better.” Azazel spoke from far away, words heavy and hard to understand. 

When his chains were removed, he slumped against the smirking man. 

Azazel looped one of Dean’s arms around his neck, walking him slowly away from the others. 

With his last rational thought, the boy reached in to his pocket, pulled out a small, folded piece of paper and dropped in front of Castiel’s kennel. 

 

Then his vision turned from blurry to gray to black. 

 

Muffled crying. 

The scent of exhaust in his nose. 

A pain behind his eyes so intense, he was sure he must be having a stroke. 

His actual brain hurt. 

Dean shifted and his entire body protested by locking his muscles in to one big knot. 

Sniffles were added to the muted sobs, the sound coming from behind him. 

Pushing through the agony, he rolled over to find Lisa’s blood shot eyes looking back at him. 

She had obviously been awake far longer than Dean had, snot and tears drying on her face, the girl was having trouble breathing around her gag. 

Dean rotated back around, ignoring Lisa’s whimper as he bend as far over as possible, face almost to his knees. 

In this position, he wriggled his bound hands up to the brunette’s mouth, groping around blindly until he could hook his fingers through the rag and yank it down. 

 

As Lisa panted, Dean unfolded, flopped over on his back with a very small sense of success. 

“Thank you.” She whispered, “I thought I was going to suffocate.” 

The boy nodded in response. 

“Turn towards me, I’ll try and do the same thing.” 

It took Lisa a little longer to coordinate the effort, but Dean happily gulped in more carbon monoxide as his gag lay around his neck. 

“How long have you been awake?”

“I have no way to tell…” the girl answered, eyes searching the dark, “Long enough to decide there’s no way out of here. I think we’re in the trunk of a car.” 

“Yeah…” Dean agreed the smells and sounds made sense. “You hear any other voices besides his?” 

“No… I haven’t heard him either. Just the radio.” 

“Radio? Did the DJ give station identification?” 

“I…um…I wasn’t paying attention.” 

“Ok…alright…” Dean nodded, a plan forming in his head, “Let’s listen for it, they might mention what city they’re broadcasting from, then we’ll have an idea where we are.” 

“How does that help?” 

“If we’re gonna get out of this, we need all the info we can get.” 

“You really think we can escape?” her whisper becoming louder, excited. 

“Definitely. You and I? We’re NOT going down without a fight, Lisa.” 

Her frightened brown eyes lit up and the tiniest of smiles tipped the corners of her lips up. 

 

“You’re for real.” 

 

“Trust me…”


	8. CASTIEL IV

“I can’t just give up, wait around for someone to kick the shit out of me or rape me up the ass.” 

 

Dean’s words sang through Castiel’s head, overrunning his usual chant of ‘let it end…let him finish…let it be over’.

Shame swept over his entire being, he felt dirty, disgusting and needed to get as far away from the older boy as he could. 

Balled up in the safety of his kennel once again, Cas blocked out the conversation between Dean and Ash, visiting his dream space and eventually falling back to sleep. 

He woke suddenly when the truck stopped, instantly remembering the box under Dean’s feet. 

Lucifer would have no doubt who put it there and if the man could hurt him that badly when he was a ‘good boy’ Castiel didn’t want to consider what would happen if he pissed the guy off. 

He moved as fast as he could out of his pen, replacing the box and huddling back inside before the door open. 

 

Lucifer had brought a new man in, with the idea that he might ‘sell some along the way’, Castiel made himself as quiet and still as possible. 

He listened closely to their conversation, feeling a wave of nausea flood over him as Lucifer and Alastair made a deal for Dean and Lisa. 

 

Dean couldn’t leave. 

 

He…he was the only one Castiel felt comfortable enough to speak to. 

It didn’t make any logical sense, he should’ve been more intimidated by the older boy. 

Dean spoke up, fought back and stayed strong. 

Dean was everything Cas wanted to be. 

 

The men left and Castiel took several deep breathes before he could get the words out. 

“Dean…” 

The older boy looked over in surprise “Hey ya Cas…sorry for…” 

“No…do not…do not let that man break you. You…do not have to be like me. Promise.” 

Castiel was stuttering over the words. 

Imagining Dean beaten and…hurt the same way he was…. 

“I swear, but you have to promise too. You’re a smart kid, you get a chance to get free, and you go. Got it?” the older boy demanded through tears, making Cas feel guilty.

“I understand.” 

 

Azazel was back, shooting a screaming Lisa up with some sort of narcotic and carrying her out in the same manner he had lugged her in. 

When the man returned and attempted to give Dean the drug, Castiel stared in fascination as the older boy bloodied Azazel’s nose before his injection. 

Cas watched the awareness fade from Dean’s face as Azazel unlocked the shackles to guide him towards the exit. 

 

Dean fingers fumbled in to the front pocket of his jeans, tossing something small and white towards Castiel. 

 

When the exit had been shut, the light dimmed in the trailer and Cas felt brave enough to reach out of cage for the item. 

It was a folded piece of paper, ragged with several small holes where the creases intersected. 

Very gingerly, Castiel maneuvered the note open to reveal a single sentence: 

 

‘I’LL BE BACK FOR YOU’

 

He held the paper to his chest, over his heart and prayed to Chuck that it was true. 

 

Castiel tucked the folded paper between his cage and the outer wall of the container. 

There wasn’t another way to keep it from Lucifer. 

And when the man returned with their dinners, this time an apple instead of the snack bar, Cas avoided his gaze but not his touch. 

Lucifer stroked his thumb across Castiel’s wrist several times before he placed the fruit in his palm. 

The boy shivered and the man chuckled quietly. 

“We’ll stop again this evening, Castiel. You’ll be able to sleep in a bed then.”

 

Cas stared at the apple a long time after Lucifer left. 

He was physically hungry but couldn’t bring himself to take a single bite with the acidic burning in his chest. 

Ash and Jessica were talking quietly; Cassie had cried herself into oblivion. 

She was the lucky one. 

Castiel couldn’t sleep anymore. 

He moved his gaze from the fruit in his hand to the shackles jingling rhythmically from the ceiling. 

Dean was gone. 

Dean was out of here and had a much better chance of getting free. 

 

‘I’LL BE BACK FOR YOU’

 

Castiel allowed himself to smile, however slightly, as he thought of hero Dean, breaking free and returning to rescue them all. 

It was an unreasonable fantasy but he soaked in it, allowed it to bring him a small drop of hope. 

 

At what must have been evening, the truck stopped again and Cas’s anxiety cranked itself back to peak levels. 

Whoever Lucifer had been speaking to on the phone was to meet them here. 

Castiel hadn’t ignored the man’s earlier conversation, stating that he was keeping Cas with him. 

The kid couldn’t decide if that made him safer or more vulnerable. 

Either way, this stop meant Ash, Jessica and Cassie were in danger of going. 

 

And Castiel found he was more afraid for them. 

 

Lucifer and Azazel both entered, mumbling to one another before the dark haired man ordered, 

“Az, take Castiel to my room. I don’t want him on display when Crowley gets here.” 

“Sure thing, boss.” 

Before the yellow eyed man could open his pen, Cas grabbed Dean’s note, shoving it into the pocket of his sweats. 

Azazel led Castiel towards the exit, Lucifer held his palm to the man’s chest, 

“Don’t tie him up or drug him. Just set him in the closet, he’ll be good, won’t you Castiel?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

He did what he was told, followed Azazel to another motel room; the man allowed him to relieve himself before ushering him in to the closet and shutting the door. 

Cas laid his head back on the wood paneling and waited, thumb rubbing over the letter in his pocket. 

 

He heard the outside door open sometime later, followed by Lucifer’s voice and a stranger’s. 

The new tone had an accent and spoke in short, clipped sentences. 

Castiel watched the knob on the closet turn, then pause, 

“Remember, I’m only showing you, he’s not for sale yet.” 

“Yes, yes, you’ve made that quite clear. I’m merely curious.” 

When the door opened, Cas was temporarily blinded by harsh lights. 

Blinking repeatedly, he limply allowed Lucifer to pull him to his feet and guide him out of the closet. 

 

“My, my. He is an angel, isn’t he? Look at me, love.” 

Castiel reluctantly raised his head, watching the man smile broadly. 

“His eyes…it’s not only the color, which is breathtaking, they project innocence and pain at the same time.” 

“Crowley…who knew you were such a poet?” Lucifer jested. 

“And you won’t sell him? Not for any amount?” 

“Not yet.” 

Castiel moved his gaze to his bare feet, fidgeting with his fingers again. 

“So, dear Lucifer, since you’ve used the term ‘yet’, I imagine you will be willing to part with him in the future?” 

“I imagine so…” 

“Allow me to put down a deposit.” 

“What?” 

“I shall give you ten percent of your asking price and when you are…done with him…you promise him to me exclusively.” 

A few moments of silence, quiet enough for Castiel’s swallows to be audible, his owner reached around him to offer Crowley his hand, 

“Deal” 

“Very well then, I shall take my current purchases and leave you with your new toy.” The man lifted Cas’s chin up with one finger, looking in to his eyes once again, “It was very nice meeting you, sweet Castiel.” 

With that, Crowley pivoted, leaving the room, Lucifer followed to lock the door behind him. 

 

Castiel fought the urge to back up as the man approached. 

Lucifer didn’t speak as he started pulling Cas’s sweatshirt off. 

Suddenly panicking that his ‘owner’ may discover the paper in his pocket, Castiel dared to tug down his pants himself. 

“Fast learner” the man muttered, leaning in to kiss and suck small bites in to the boy’s neck and shoulder. 

Lucifer pulled back, scanning Cas’s expression, 

“You’re still hurt from last night; I’m not going to fuck you.” 

 

Well, that’s good news. 

 

“But I want you on that bed;” tilting his head towards the nearest one, “place your hands above your head, legs spread and knees bent. Understand?” 

No, not really but…

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Good boy…” 

 

Castiel obeyed, following instructions to a T, feeling very exposed and vulnerable. 

“So fucking beautiful. Open your eyes; look at me.” 

Cas looked up at Lucifer, biting his bottom lip and battling tears. 

The man had a camera. 

A large, professional looking camera. 

There was a click and a flash and Castiel had to fight his body to stay still. 

“Perfect…absolutely perfect for me…” 

The photo session continued, Cas never moved, Lucifer rounding the bed, sometimes moving closer, other times stepping further away. 

At one point, the man allowed him to close his eyes. 

When the tears rained down, Lucifer mumbled further encouragements, shifting to get images of just the boy’s face. 

 

Castiel heard the man lower his zipper, followed by the rustle of clothing being removed. 

But Lucifer had said he wasn’t going to fuck him. 

Cas tensed up when the mattress between his legs dropped under the man’s weight. 

“Look at me…” 

 

Castiel obeyed.

Of course he did. 

He always did as he was told. 

He was a good boy. 

 

Lucifer was on his knees between Cas’s bent legs, stroking an impressive erection while staring in to the boy’s wide, blue eyes. 

“Going to mark you, Castiel…” his fondling becoming faster, palm slipping up over the head of his dick to gather precome. 

“Don’t close your eyes, look at me. Look at me, baby.” 

Cas felt filthy, staring in to Lucifer’s clear blue eyes, trying to keep his sobs as hushed as he could as Lucifer painted white stripes of humiliation all the way up to Castiel’s chest. 

“Fuck…fuck…God damn…baby…”

When his orgasm faded, cock growing soft, he stopped stroking to reach down and smear his come over Castiel’s body. 

Warm, salt scented semen rubbed over every inch of expose skin. 

Cas turned his head to the side, sliding his eyes closed and repeating, 

 

‘let it end…

let him finish…

let it be over…’

 

More clicking, more flashing lights, more pictures being taken. 

Lucifer kept muttering praises; Castiel chocked back the need to gag, to vomit. 

Finally…

Finally, thank Chuck, the man was done. 

“Come on, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

Cas allowed Lucifer to tug him up and lead him feebly to the shower. 

His hope that he would have time alone in scalding hot water was stomped as the man entered with him, soaping Castiel’s entire body and then rinsing it. 

Filth continued to pour out of Lucifer’s mouth, his lips visiting the boy’s shoulders and neck once more. 

Cas stared sightlessly at the cracking tile around him, never resisting Lucifer’s touches or commands. 

 

He was tired. 

So very, very tired. 

He wanted to sleep. 

Sleep and never wake up. 

Not die, not really. 

 

Just…wake up in another time or place. 

 

Wake up as anybody other than Castiel.


	9. DEAN IV

The car finally came to a stop; Dean could hear a door open then slam shut. 

He expected the trunk to open soon after, but a good chunk of time had passed before the clicking sound of the latch made both he and Lisa jump. 

“Be cool…” he whispered to Lisa, the girl squeezing her eyes shut, preparing for the worst. 

 

Alastair reached in to yank the boy out, Dean struggling, spouting off the whole time. 

“You sick fuck. Can’t find someone your own age to screw with? Gotta buy people? Pathetic, man. Just fucking pathetic…” 

He continued to ramble until the man dropped him painfully to a cement driveway. 

A quick survey of the area, just a single house and a lot of empty fields. 

Dean rolled to his stomach, trying to push up on his knees as Alastair snatched a sobbing Lisa from the trunk. 

“Don’t you hurt her, asshole. You fucking hurt her and I’ll kill you myself.” He spoke between clenched teeth. 

Alastair laughed, tossing Lisa effortlessly over his shoulder, 

 

“I’d love to see that, little boy.” 

 

As the man started to cart the girl into the house, Dean yelled after him. 

“Untie me mother fucker and I’ll take you down. It’s easy to talk shit when you have people all taped up.” 

Alastair disappeared in to the house; Dean didn’t scream for help, there was no sign of life anywhere nearby. 

Lying solo on the pavement, he rotated to his side, bent himself in half again, maneuvering his bound wrists down over his butt, the back of his knees and, finally, past his feet. 

With his hands in front of him now, he clumsily picked at the duct tape around his ankles. 

 

If he could free his legs, he could run. 

 

Dean let out a small ‘whoop’ of triumphant when the last of the adhesive came loose and he wobbly pushed to his feet. 

Before he could take a single step, Alastair appeared, making his way down the drive. 

“You’re a smart little shit, huh?” he chuckled. 

Dean took off running towards the street, the man’s footsteps just behind him. 

He could hear Alastair’s heavy breathing when he reached the mailbox, then a cruel hand buried itself in the boy’s hair. 

Alastair yanked Dean brutally, his back hitting the man’s chest as the creep leaned down to whisper harshly in the boy’s ear. 

“You keep fighting, little boy. Keep trying. It’s going to make the moment you give up so much sweeter.” 

“Fuck you!” Dean spit, trying to shake his head from Alastair’s boney fingers. 

 

Scooping Dean up easily, ignoring the boy’s curses and struggles as if he were nothing more than a mosquito, Alastair took his new toy in to the house and down a set of wooden stairs. 

The basement was musty, dark and humid.

Alastair flicked a switch, fluorescing lights blinked to life over a large, metal table. 

Several standing tool boxes lined the far wall, cobwebs inhabited in the corners, a thick glass window, covered in mud from the outside, offered no latches or hinges. 

Losing his patience with the constant kicks Dean delivered to his stomach, Alastair dropped him carelessly on the table. 

The boy felt cold steel seething through his shirt, trying to flop his way off the opposite side before Alastair pushed a sweaty palm against his forehead, forcing his skull in to the metal. 

A strap appeared out of nowhere, the binding positioned just above his eyes and locking him in place. 

Dean hadn’t shut up the entire time. 

He cursed, threatened and shouted; continue to strike out with his feet while Alastair retrained his ankles at each bottom corner. 

The man remained silent, a toothy grin pushing the fear Dean was fighting further in to his gut. 

 

Pulling out a shiny scalpel from the top drawer of a toolbox, Alastair easily slit the tape from Dean’s wrists. 

When the sharp object moved away from his body, the boy used the opportunity to punch at the creep. 

Without the ability to move his head, his aim was useless and his fists only hit stale air. 

Alastair managed to maneuver Dean’s wrists to each side, locking them in as well. 

He laid spread eagle on the cold steel, eyes glaring as he pushed down the panic lumping in his throat. 

 

“There, now. That’s better.” Alastair smirked before returning the scalpel to its rightful place. 

“Go to Hell” Dean snarled. 

“MMmmmm, you first, little boy…” the man winked before revolving back to the stairs, flicking off the light, each step echoing off cinderblock walls. 

Pitch black. 

Dean couldn’t see an inch in front of his face. 

His throat raw and angry from his constant protest, he gathered as much saliva as he could and swallowed it down. 

A poor attempt to take the edge off his thirst. 

There had to be a way to get loose. 

All the straps and buckles, at least one of them would give enough for him to slip out. 

 

Dean went to work. 

 

By the time Alastair returned, switching on the blinding bulb to burn Dean’s retinas, the boy had managed to rub wrists, ankles and forehead completely bloody. 

“Aw… look at you…you bleed so pretty.” 

“Fuck you.” Dean’s voice desert dry and cracking. 

“Too late, little boy. Your girlfriend took care of that for me.” 

 

Lisa 

 

Dean fought the urge to vomit; he’d choke on it for sure. 

Alastair had done something so vile to Lisa; the boy became dizzy with pure hatred. 

“You’re a coward. Pathetic. Can’t get laid on your own? Have to buy little girls and rape them?” 

The man leaned down to lick a thick stripe across Dean’s throat, then muttering,

“Jealous, little boy? I’ll give you next turn…” 

Alastair pulled back enough to watch Dean’s tough guy expression flicker for a moment. 

“Don’t like that idea, huh?” he laughed. 

“If it would make you leave her alone, then bring it on, pervert.”

“So cute. Trying to be brave and protective. Adorable.” 

 

With a visit to his toolbox again, Alastair produced a larger, sharper instrument and set about slicing through Dean’s clothes. 

The boy froze, feeling the chill of metal graze his skin. 

When he was completely naked, the man took a moment to tap on Dean’s balls, chuckling, 

“Impressive for a little boy.” 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“Absolutely.” Delivering another maniacal grin. 

 

The cuts started on his chest, the blade so sharp, Dean didn’t register the pain until his blood trailed warm in to his armpits. 

He bit two perfect prints in to his bottom lip with his teeth, refusing to make a sound. 

No way was he giving this guy the satisfaction of acknowledging the sting. 

 

Alastair’s face was intense, concentrating on each incision with purpose. 

When he finally paused, brows furrowed, he searched through another toolbox, successfully locating a bottle of clear liquid. 

Fucking rubbing alcohol. 

 

SHIT 

 

SHIT SHIT SHIT!

 

Dean was unable to swallow the cries of agony but managed to lace the noise with every curse word he had ever heard. 

He even made up a few new ones. 

Alastair finished with the alcohol, blotting Dean’s chest with a red shop towel before reaching under the table for a glass jar of black fluid. 

Dean was tired, trying to take enough oxygen to blow through the pain. 

The man dipped two fingers in to the jar, smearing the contents over freshly clean cuts. 

Alastair hummed as he massaged fire into Dean’s chest. 

When he seemed satisfied with his work, he emptied the rest of the alcohol over the slices, wiping it roughly with the sandpaper rag. 

He smiled, tugged his phone out of his pocket, carefully aimed, and then took a picture. 

Alastair studied the image, nodded his head before holding the screen in front of Dean’s face. 

Angry red and black lines arranged to make jagged letters, an amateur tattoo reading: 

 

A L A S T A I R ‘S 

 

“Mother fucker…” Dean gasped, closing his eyes against the photo. 

“Now” Alastair breathed hot in to his ear “Now you belong to me, little boy.” 

A disgustingly loud kiss smacked against Dean’s cheek before the asshole left him there in the dark again. 

His chest stinging and throbbing and his courage slipping just a bit. 

“It’s cool” he told himself out loud, “when we get out of here, I’ll get a kick ass tat to cover that shit up. It’s cool.” 

Dean thought about Lisa upstairs, suffering more than he was. 

He thought about Mom and Sammy waiting for him at the bus station. 

And he thought of Castiel. 

Praying the sweet kid with blue angel eyes wasn’t being hurt. 

 

There was no way of knowing how long he lay there sightless. 

Dean believed he may have fallen asleep at one time, but it was hard to tell when his eyes couldn’t focus on anything when he woke up. 

Then he lost control of his bladder. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he had used the bathroom. 

Hot shame flooded between his legs to drip off the table. 

The smell was strong, making him gag with humiliation. 

 

Dean struggled against the binding, refreshing the raw burning and increasing the flow of blood. 

Lubrication. 

If he could get one of the straps wet enough, he might be able to slip through. 

It was worth a shot. 

He couldn’t think of a better plan. 

Because there was no way in Hell Dean Winchester was going to lie in this damn basement and shit himself. 

 

Fuck that. 

 

Alastair returned, sneering ‘the little boy had an accident’. 

Dragging a hose out from underneath the metal surface, the man hooked it up to something past Dean’s vision, spraying icy water full blast over the boy’s body, leaving his skin crimson red and covered with goosebumps. 

“What the fuck is your deal, dude? Your mom didn’t breast feed you? Kids at school shoved your head in to the toilet? Late night sneaky uncle?” 

Alastair was laughing again, disconnecting the spout and rolling his hose back in to a perfect circle. 

“Aw, little boy. Someday, I’ll come down and tell you sweet bedtime stories about my childhood. Right now, I want to see what your bones look like.” 

 

Dean couldn’t swallow the gasp before it escaped his mouth. 

Alastair leaned over to leer in to his green eyes, 

“I hope you’re not starting to break already. I’m just getting started, little boy.” 

 

When the man sliced deep enough in to Dean’s side to expose his rib bone to moldy air, Dean sang to himself to escape delirium. 

 

Ramble On, And now's the time, the time is now, to sing my song.  
I'm goin' 'round the world, I got to find my girl, on my way.  
I've been this way ten years to the day, Ramble On,  
Gotta find the queen of all my dreams.

 

It wasn’t Lisa he thought of when he repeated the lyrics. 

 

It was Castiel. 

 

And when Dean lost consciousness, he was grateful.


	10. CASTIEL V

After he redressed, caressing the paper in his pocket, Lucifer allowed Castiel to ball up under the blankets of the unused bed. 

Cas dozed, emotionally exhausted and fresh out of tears. 

Lucifer puttered around the room, spoke to a few people on the phone before shaking Castiel awake. 

“C’mon baby, it’s time to go.” 

Nodding with understanding he didn’t really have, Cas followed the man out of the room and allowed himself to be ushered in to the passenger seat of a red sports car. 

Azazel leaned in to the driver’s side window after Lucifer belted in. 

“See ya in a few months, boss.” Delivering a wink before adding, “You too Castiel.” 

The yellow eyed man tapped twice on the vehicles roof and then Lucifer pulled out of the parking lot. 

Cas rested his head against the window, remembering Dean telling him to escape if he got the chance. 

By then, Lucifer had maneuvered them on to a highway and jumping out at 60 MPH wasn’t an option. 

 

Instead, the boy watched for signs. 

Kept an eye out for clues to where he might be. 

It was sunny, warm for January. 

He was nowhere near home. 

 

“Hungry?” 

Lucifer’s deep voice startled him and Castiel had to concentrate on the question. 

He honestly didn’t know. 

Cas hadn’t eaten his apple earlier, before that he had 1/6th of a granola bar, so physically he should be starving. 

But his stomach was one big burning knot of anxiety. 

Choosing the path of least resistance, he finally choked out 

“Y-yes, Sir” 

“We’ll grab something on the way home.” Lucifer nodded with a smile. 

 

‘home’?

 

They slipped through a drive-thru, Lucifer ordering the same thing for both of them. 

Castiel tried to make eye contact with the employees, they were all too busy to pay attention. 

Before they left the lot, the man pulled the car in to an empty spot, shifted in to park and punched Cas directly in the face. 

The boy could usually brace himself for a hit, had learned to predict his father’s rage. 

Lucifer’s strike caught him off guard, he cried out in surprise as his lip split and his cheek bone was set afire. 

“You think I missed that?” the man growled. 

Castiel was afraid to answer, blinking rapidly, holding his fingers to his bleeding mouth. 

“What do you think you could accomplish, huh?” Lucifer seethed, “You think some pimple-faced teenage burger flipper was going to help you leave me? Maybe you thought they would call the police, tell them a boy in the drive-thru looked sad? You’re smarter than that.” 

He leaned over, gripping the hair at the base of Castiel’s skull and jerking him forward, forcing frightened indigo eyes to look in to soulless blue ones. 

“You’re going to get yourself fucked up. You’re going to get the next person you look at killed. Understand?” 

“Yes, S-s-sir.” His whisper barely audible. 

Lucifer released his head with a shove, clicking the car in to reverse and speeding away from the restaurant. 

 

They drove in silence for twenty minutes before the man unpeeled a straw, stabbing it through the lid of a drink. 

“Here” Lucifer pushed the cup in Cas’s face, “Cold might help your lip from swelling.” 

Castiel took the action as a step towards forgiveness. 

Forgiveness meant the discipline wouldn’t continue. 

“Thank you, Sir.” He answered softly, taking the soda with shaking hands. 

“Don’t make me do that again, Castiel.” 

“I am sorry, Sir.” 

Lucifer nodded, turned the radio up a little as he rounded the cloverleaf in to town, Cas spotted a worn sign on the side of the road. 

 

‘Welcome to Hell, California’ 

The irony was overwhelming. 

 

By the time they arrived at Lucifer’s apartment complex, Cas’s lip had stopped bleeding but bubbled up, the bruise on his cheek darkening from red, to blue before settling on purple. 

The man parked, picked up the bags of fast food and then looked at Castiel with a raised brow. 

“Can I trust you to walk or do I need to knock your ass out?” 

“I will walk, Sir.” 

“Good boy.” 

Shakenly, Cas exited the vehicle, trailing Lucifer through the foyer and up two flights of stairs. 

The boy watched his bare feet the entire time, never risking a glance that might land on innocent person. 

 

Lucifer ushered him in to his apartment. 

It was small, a kitchen to the left, bathroom and walk-in closet to the right, one large room used as both a living area and a bedroom. 

A set of sliding glass doors let out to a small balcony, just large enough for a lawn chair and portable grill. 

 

It was the bed that terrified Castiel. 

 

Not just because of the size, it was huge, but the industrial type light fixtures that surrounded it. 

The video camera attached to a tripod at the foot of the mattress made his blood run cold. 

While he was staring at the bed in horror, Lucifer set their dinner on the table and then called Cas over to eat. 

He ate his cold cheeseburger and fries slowly, resisting the urge to gag and avoiding the man’s gaze. 

Lucifer gathered their trash, Castiel concentrated on picking at his nail beds and blinking furiously. 

 

The man settled back in the chair across from him, clearing his throat, 

“Do you know who I am, Castiel?”

Cas looked up in surprise, stammering, 

“L-Lucifer…?”

“That’s my name, yes. But to you? I am God.” 

The boy stayed quiet, waiting for the punchline. 

“You belong to me. Your very existence is my choice. I choose if you eat and when you sleep. I can hurt you or make you feel good, I decide if you live or die, Castiel. I am your entire world. You will worship me because I am your God. Do you understand?”

No. 

Not even a little bit. 

But…

“Yes, Sir. I understand. You own me.” He answered in a horrified whisper so soft it was barely reached the man’s ears. 

“Good… good boy…” 

Lucifer moved towards him, Cas couldn’t stop the flinch that preluded the small kiss to his forehead. 

“Here…” the man held out his hand, two small yellow capsules nesting in his palm.

With a gulp, the boy looked up at his ‘god’, question in his eyes. 

“They won’t hurt you. Only gonna help you sleep.” 

Cas nodded, swallowed the meds down with the last of his pop. 

 

Last place in the world Castiel wanted to be right now was on that freaky ass bed but he climbed in, pulling in to himself under the covers. 

Lucifer was talking on the phone, the television ran static in the background and Cas floated gratefully in to slumber. 

 

Castiel woke with a start, room bright, staring at his reflection. 

Mirrors. 

Mirrors on the ceiling over the bed. 

He hadn’t noticed them in the dark. 

 

“G’morning…” a British accent drifted over. 

Cas sat up, searching for the source of the voice and found a tall man, dirty blonde hair and baby blue eyes watching him with amusement. 

“Luci stepped out for a bit, asked me to babysit.” 

The boy nodded, rubbing his eyes and clearing his throat before pointing to the bathroom, 

“May I?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” 

Castiel relieved himself, washed his face, mindful of the increasingly darkening bruise on his cheek. 

Stroking his thumb over the folded paper in his pocket, he closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and stepped back out. 

 

Lucifer had returned; he and the stranger were settling a take-out breakfast on the table between them. 

Several shopping bags lined the hall. 

“Castiel.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Come, eat.” 

He sat at the table obediently, staring at two pills lounging next to his orange juice. 

Cas blinked rapidly, tucking his lips in over his teeth. 

“They won’t make you sleep, baby. Just keep you calm.” 

The boy nodded, studying his scrambled eggs for moment before placing the pills on his tongue and chasing them with juice. 

“Good boy.” 

Castiel ate slowly, waiting to see what effect the mystery medicine would have on him. 

“This is my cousin, Balthazar.” 

Cas raised his head long enough to nod. 

“Balty’s going to give you a make-over” Lucifer said matter-of-factly. 

“No that you need it, dear boy. You’re simply lovely all on your own.” 

Make-over? 

What was this, a fucking slumber party? 

 

Castiel had finished eating what he could when his mind turned sluggish and words came harder to come by. 

Even saying ‘Yes, Sir’ to his ‘god’ took considerable effort. 

He stared at both older men, watching their faces double only to merge back in to one when he blinked. 

“How are you feeling, baby?” 

Cas offered a small smile and the slightest of nods. 

“He’s feeling no pain, Luci.” Balthazar chuckled, throwing back the rest of his coffee before clapping his hands twice, “Let’s get started.” 

 

They both seemed to attack him at the same time. 

His clothes were removed, replaced with powder blue silk panties. 

Balthazar held ice cubes to his chest, a loud gasp escaped Castiel’s throat as a sharp pain ripped through him. 

Looking down in a daze, he found a metal circle with a silver ball in the middle impaling his left nipple. 

Cas was able to offer a whimper in protest as Balthazar lined his lids with coal smears, exaggerating the deep blue of his eyes and then dabbed concealer over his bruising. 

“Such a good boy for me, Castiel.” Lucifer breathed in to his ear. 

 

The boy found himself laying in the middle of the bed, watching in fascination as the twin in the ceiling blinked slowly back at him. 

Flashes of light and resounding clicks surrounded him. 

And then Lucifer was in bed with him, naked and tugging the new underwear off. 

Cas’s head lolled to one side, catching a glimpse of Balthazar, also nude, pointing the video camera at them. 

“Fucking hot, Luci.” 

“Make sure you get his face when I make him come. No just the squirt.” 

“I know…” 

 

Lucifer took Castiel’s limp cock in to his mouth, humming and sucking it erect. 

Cas whined; spreading his legs instinctively as the man bobbed his head up and down. 

Balthazar focused closer when Lucifer pulled off to lick enthusiastically on the boy’s ball, pushing his legs up and tracing his tongue around a tight, pink pucker. 

It felt so good. 

Chuck help him, it felt so damn good. 

Lucifer returned his mouth to Cas’s throbbing dick and Castiel couldn’t stop his body from arching, fisting the sheets and opening his mouth in a silent scream when he exploded thick white come down the man’s throat. 

“MMmmmm, yummy…” Balthazar panted from behind the camera. 

Opening his mouth to show the few drops of semen left on his tongue, Lucifer looked in to the lens and swallowed deliberately. 

He set his hands behind Cas’s knees, coaxing the boy’s legs up next to his head and rimming wetly around his hole. 

Lucifer leaned back, rubbing the head of his cock around Castiel’s entrance a few times before pressing in slowly.

It burned. 

It stretched. 

It hurt. 

Cas could only lie back, biting his bottom lip to reopen the split and taste coppery warm blood. 

 

Balthazar moved around the bed, stepping on to the mattress several times to get the angle he wanted as Lucifer fucked in to Castiel. 

He started slow, speaking filth just loud enough to be recorded. 

And then he maneuvered Cas’s legs over his shoulder, drilling in to him rapidly, painfully as the camera picked up every moan and whimper the boy managed to utter. 

“Oh… fuck…so damn tight…gonna fill you up, baby….gonna make you so full…” 

Lucifer threw his head back with a roar as he came, continuing to pump viciously, chasing the aftershocks. 

 

Balthazar remained recording, handing the camera off to Lucifer when the man pulled out of Castiel and left the bed. 

His cousin stood over Cas, stroking himself briefly before painting ropes of come over the boy’s face, in to his hair and across his throat. 

Lucifer moved the camera in close, focusing on the drops of humiliation dripping off Castiel’s long lashes and trailing slowly from his lips to his jaw. 

 

Castiel was aware but fogged. 

He knew exactly what had just happened, felt the orgasm followed by the invasion. 

 

Cas was mindful that it was all captured on film. 

 

He silently thanked Lucifer for the drugs.


	11. SAM II

Sam suffered nightmares and visions for months. 

 

Months. 

 

Sometimes they were flashes of Dean. 

Dean and blood and shiny metal and darkness. 

Other times they were strangers. 

A beautiful blonde on fire, screaming. 

A brunette bound to a bed, beaten. 

A boy with intense blue eyes, staring listlessly at his own reflection. 

 

Sam told his mom and Agent Henriksen every detail he could remember. 

The working theory being that the unfamiliar kids were connected to Dean. 

His brother was in agony, but Mary insisted that seeing him meant he was still alive. 

 

There was still hope. 

 

The girl with pretty hair, the one with a mole in the middle of her forehead, was dead. 

Sam was sure. 

He watched her burn. 

White night gown, blood across her abdomen, sun colored tresses spread around her. 

A look of pure horror, an expression Sam was sure to take with him the rest of his life, on her face as fire consumed her. 

And then she was gone. 

 

Blonde girl wasn’t the only one dead. 

There was a skinny guy, talking and then someone was hitting him. 

Over and over and over 

The last image of that nightmare was shiny black shoes trailing through the kid’s blood. 

 

Thirteen weeks. 

 

Thirteen weeks since Dean’s birthday had Sam collapsing in the hall of his middle school, blinded by pain as a building came in to view. 

‘ALTA VIEW HOSPITAL’ 

After convincing the nurse he didn’t need an ambulance, only his mother to come get him for a debilitating migraine, Sam and Mary Googled the hospital and called the FBI. 

Sammy couldn’t be certain Dean was there, but he was positive one of the kids from his premonitions was. 

 

He saw a tall kid with long hair running. 

Felt sure the boy had escaped whatever terror he had been living. 

 

A short girl with dark skin, she was on a boat. 

He watched as she tried to jump overboard, only to be pulled back by strong hands with hairy knuckles. 

 

The visions, the nightmares were coming daily now, so many people in pain. 

Sam had trouble eating, sleeping and suffered constant headaches. 

 

Mary’s only hope at helping her younger son was to keep looking. 

Keep searching news articles for kids that matched Sammy’s description. 

If they could find them, maybe her baby’s premonitions would calm. 

 

John had filed for custody, the paperwork served just a few weeks after Dean’s disappearance. 

Mary’s lawyer and Agent Henriksen’s input squashed that pretty quickly. 

Sam’s father continued with his disbelief of his son’s ability. 

 

Sammy couldn’t care less. 

 

He wanted Dean back. 

Needed his big brother back. 

Whatever headaches, stomachaches and insomnia he had to suffer through would be worth it when Dean was safe. 

 

When all the people from his visions were safe.


	12. DEAN V

There was no way to tell how long he lay in the dark, bleeding, wet and cold on the unforgiving metal table. 

It could have been hours, could have been weeks. 

Dean’s sense of reality had long ago been hindered. 

He couldn’t think of anything but the pain. 

He tried to concentrate on seeing his mom and Sammy again. 

Attempting to think about Lisa or Castiel needing his help. 

But nothing…nothing could tear him away from the agony that covered every inch of his body. 

 

Alastair had carved in to the skin of his extremities with great care, copying symbols from a large, leather bond book. 

At some point, maybe when Dean had landed in the heaven that was unconsciousness, he had maneuvered the boy on to his stomach and began carving in to his back as well. 

Dean’s open wounds bleed on to the table, causing his stomach and chest to stick painfully to the steel. 

And Alastair continued. 

Dean thought he heard something about letting his body restore the blood he had lost, that the demon would have to start again later. 

 

He couldn’t understand any of it. 

There was a needle taped in to the top of his hand and a tube running down his nose. 

At some point, Alastair may have told him what they were for but Dean’s brain only registered pain. 

No comprehension of words or concept of time. 

 

After the ‘break’, when the man informed him that he could bleed again without dying, Alastair continued his artwork. 

This time, however, he kept whispering promises Dean was able to understand. 

“Just say yes.”  
“Tell me yes and I’ll take you off this table.”  
“One word, Dean.”  
“You’ll take the scalpel from my hand."  
“Someone else will be on the table instead.”  
“Just say yes, little boy.” 

Alastair was making an offer, agree to hurt and he wouldn’t be hurt anymore. 

Take Alastair’s place and someone would take Dean’s place. 

The man would teach him, teach him to cause pain without killing. 

He would be the torturer, not the victim.

 

And then the time came. 

He realized his prayers for death and oblivion wouldn’t be answered. 

And he agreed. 

 

Dean said yes. 

 

He wasn’t unstrapped immediately, instead, he was given time to heal. 

The IV pushing fluids and antibiotics through his system.

The feeding tube pumping nutrients in to his stomach. 

Dean felt stronger, more alert and determined to do whatever he had to get off this damn table. 

 

Alastair removed the bindings, lifting a frail Dean from the surface on to a nearby chair. 

“Stay there; I’ll go get your subject.” 

Dean nodded body aching, stinging and feeble. 

The demon returned minutes later with a very naked Lisa. 

The boy closed his eyes. 

 

SHIT 

 

SHIT SHIT SHIT! 

 

The girl was crying, screaming, begging Dean for help as Alastair systematically strapped her in to Dean’s previous position. 

The man strolled to his tool box, selected a large blade, presenting it to the boy. 

Dean took the weapon gingerly, studying the reflective surface before looking up at Alastair’s cold eyes. 

The man was smiling. 

A toothy, wide grin of triumph. 

 

“Took longer than I thought, little boy. But you finally broke.” 

 

He gripped Dean’s upper arm, guiding him to his feet and aiming him at a hysterical Lisa. 

“The nipples, I think.” Standing behind Dean, whispering hot in to his ear. “Remove them. Just the surface, carefully, I want them in one piece.” 

Swallowing, the boy nodded, Lisa’s pleading amped up to shrieking, the sound causing his stomach to rebel and he fought the retching in his throat. 

Alastair wrapped an arm around Dean’s middle, hand over hand, directing him to the first cut. 

Dean locked his jade eyes with Lisa’s blood shot cocoa ones, 

 

And winked. 

 

The girl’s screeches stopped, confusion covered her face and she opened her mouth slightly. 

Dean took a deep breath, held it as he moved the scalpel towards Lisa’s chest. 

With a swift, silent movement, he twisted around in Alastair’s grip, slashing out with the knife blindly. 

 

The incision caught the man in his neck, grazing his jugular. 

Alastair released Dean completely, stumbling back with his palm pressed tightly over the wound, eyes glassy with shock. 

Dean gripped the blade tightly, holding it in front of him, daring the man to attack. 

The demon’s mouth open and shut several times, trying to breathe or talk, Dean couldn’t be sure and then he fell to his knees, reaching out his empty hand towards to boy. 

 

When he felt safe enough to turn his back on Alastair, Dean set the knife next to Lisa, moving around the table to unbuckle each binding; whispering nonsense about chopping off the man’s cock and shoving it down his throat. 

In the end, he decided getting a frantic Lisa back up the stairs and finding a phone outweighed the temptation to slice up his torturer. 

 

Dean was still weak, Lisa seemed to fair a bit better, allowing him to lean against him as he struggled to conquer each step. 

Although he was sure Alastair was dead or dying, he insisted on locking the door to the basement. 

Dean had seen enough horror movies to know the monster always pops back up when you least expect it. 

 

Lisa was rambling in circles. 

Thanking him. 

Threatening Alastair further pain. 

Gotta find a phone. 

Gotta find clothes. 

Gotta get help. 

 

“Lisa…LISA!” Dean chocked out, “I need your help, sweetheart. You have to calm down, OK? First things first, are you hurt?” 

The brunette beauty looked at him, mouth agape, 

“Am I hurt? Dean, you’re covered in blood. I’m fine…I mean, I’ll be fine…but I’m ok. I’m ok.” 

“Good” he panted, “Do you know if he has a phone, do you know how long we’ve been here?” 

“Um…yeah…I’ve heard him talk on the phone, but I don’t know where it is. I think we’ve been here for…um…three months, maybe?” 

 

Three months. 

 

Three FUCKING months! 

 

“Lisa, I’m getting pretty dizzy, might pass out. Don’t freak, ok? Keep looking for the phone; throw on one of his shirts or something before the cops come.” 

The girl shook her head, “Don’t faint. Come lay on the couch. Don’t leave me alone, ok? Alright?” 

“Yeah…yeah…” whatever chic… 

 

The sofa reeked of cigarette smoke but Dean rested his head on the arm, listening to Lisa rustling through the house. 

At one point, she threw a blanket over him. 

He heard her speaking, one sided conversation and decided she must have found the phone. 

Fucking warrior princess. 

Naked, beaten, raped and terrified, Lisa hadn’t stopped to panic or feel sorry for herself. 

She kept on eye on Dean, wrapping them both in sheets and waited for the cavalry. 

 

Dean struggled in and out of reality for a while. 

There were loud voices. 

Someone touched him and he screamed. 

A sharp pinch in his shoulder. 

Moving. 

Tires beneath him. 

No.

Not the damn truck trailer again. 

No. 

An ambulance, chubby blonde EMT talking too fast and too cheerfully. 

Lisa. 

Lisa crying, trying to speak between sobs. 

Bright lights fading in and out and back again. 

 

Dean climbed back in to the world of the living long enough to understand where he was. 

A hospital room. 

Good looking nurse with a clipboard hovering next to a short doctor shining a penlight in his eyes. 

“Dude…too bright…” 

The doctor chuckled, “Can you tell me your name?” 

“Dean.” 

“Ok, Dean. How old are you?” 

“Um…fif…no, sixteen.” 

“Good, do you know your last name?” 

“Yeah…Win-Winchester. Hey, where’s Lisa?” 

“Lisa is being taken care of, she’s safe, seems you’re a bit of a hero. Saved her life.” 

“Where the hell are we?” 

“You’re in the hospital.” 

“Yeah…I meant the state. The city?” 

“Oh… sorry, Sandy Utah.” 

“UTAH!?” 

“Dean, you have a lot of injuries, you may need surgery or at least skin grafts. We need to contact your parents.” 

“Yeah…yeah…um…my mom’s in Tampa, dad’s in Kansas. Can you…can you find my mom first?” 

“Of course, the police and FBI are going to want to talk to you.” 

“When my mom gets here.” Dean agreed before insisting, “Now, I want to see Lisa.” 

 

When they wheeled him in to Lisa’s room, the brown eyed girl leapt from her bed, wrapping chocking arms around his neck and bawling. 

“I thought…I thought I was going to die there. I thought…”

“Hey…hey…it’s over…it’s over…” 

She pulled her head back enough to look Dean in the face, shaking her head, 

“It’s not. Cassie. Cassie and Jess and Ash. And Castiel. They’re…” 

“I know. That’s why we’re going to tell the cops everything we can remember. We’re going to help them find our friends, Lisa.” 

He acted more sane and confident than he actually felt. 

 

Dean had stitches and bandages all over his body, made mummy jokes with the cute nurse, his best defense had always been humor. 

He wasn’t allowed to ingest anything but watered down juice and weak Jell-O. 

His stomach hadn’t had solid food for months. 

Dean was dehydrated, malnourished, jaundiced, anemic and then stopped listening when the doctor rattled off the extent of his mutilation. 

 

In wasn’t more than an hour later, flying high on morphine that the doctor announced his mother had arrived. 

He must be completely stoned. 

“How could she come from Florida so fast?” 

“Seems as if she was already in Utah. Looking for you.” 

That didn’t make any sense. 

 

Beautiful blonde Mary Winchester rushed in the room, a tall shaggy haired boy followed her in. 

 

Sammy. 

 

Wow, Sammy had gotten big! 

In a whirlwind of hugs and sobs, smiles and teary eyes, Dean was able to make out one detail from all of his mom and baby brother’s ramblings. 

 

Sammy. 

 

Sammy knew where to find him.


	13. CASTIEL VI

Castiel took whatever pills Lucifer offered him.

He dressed in demeaning costumes and applied eye liner skillfully. 

He learned to make all the right sounds at the right times. 

How to perform amazing blow jobs. 

To gaze invitingly in to the lens of a camera and lick his glossed lips. 

He knew to call Lucifer ‘daddy’ and insist regularly that the man was ‘too big’. 

 

Castiel was a ‘good boy’. 

 

After the punch in the restaurant parking lot, Lucifer beat him three more times. 

The man had brought another boy home, younger than Cas and insisted Castiel mount him. 

He couldn’t.

He would accept pain with a smile before he would cause it. 

Bleeding and bruised, he was locked in the closet while Lucifer took the boy himself. 

Cas had to watch the video afterwards. 

 

The next punishment came when, after almost five months, Lucifer thought he controlled him enough to use him as bait. 

They would visit a truck stop, bus station or find someone clueless enough to try and hitchhike. 

The man sent Castiel over to convince the kid it was safe to come with them. 

It took almost a half dozen attempts before Lucifer realized Cas wasn’t offering help. 

He was quietly warning them. 

The man beat him until he blacked out, his face so disfigured; they couldn’t make another movie for over a week. 

 

This last incident wasn’t Castiel openly defying Lucifer. 

It was late evening, shooting done for the day, hottest shower possible taken and drugs wearing off, Lucifer left Cas alone in the apartment while he jogged downstairs to hand their newest cinematic victory off to Balthazar. 

Castiel stepped out on to the balcony. 

Holding on to the railing, he leaned his head back, heavenly breeze brushing over damp locks, eyes searching the sky. 

Stars had just started to pop out, the moon half-hidden behind a shadowy cloud; Cas took a moment to pretend he was free. 

 

A strong set of fingers sunk in to the back of Castiel’s head, fisting the majority of his hair and yanking him violently back in to the room. 

Cas cried out in surprise before landing brutally on the floor as Lucifer slammed the sliding glass shut, locking it with a deliberate click. 

He didn’t ask what the boy was doing out there, dropping to straddle him, wrapping both hands around Castiel’s neck and squeezing. 

Being strangled is nothing like holding your breath. 

You don’t have time to inhale before your air is taken away. 

It’s instant panic. 

Lucifer’s eyes were wide and furious.

Cas pulled at the man’s wrists, scratched at fingers laced around his throat. 

The black dots grew larger, flooding his vision until there was nothing left but darkness. 

 

Frigid water raining on his face brought him reluctantly back. 

Castiel inhaled sharply, coughing and throwing up what little lay in his stomach. 

He was in the bathtub. 

Leaning against the tiles, Lucifer holding the shower head in front of him, the icy spray waking him only to steal his breath again. 

“Thank God!” the man exclaimed, turning the facet to the right; reaching to pull the boy upright. 

“I thought…fuck…I thought I fucking killed you…” the man babbled, cupping his hands around Cas’s face to stare at him intently. 

The whites of Castiel’s eyes were crimson, blood vessels broken under pressure. 

He continued to cough, inhaling more than he exhaled, crying as he struggled to regulate his breathing. 

Lucifer tucked him in to his chest, holding the back of his head and panting repeatedly, 

“I’m sorry, shit…I’m so sorry…” 

 

Cas’s temples throbbed an agonizing beat in to his brain. 

His vision blurry, throat red and raw and Lucifer’s words weren’t making any sense. 

Castiel’s ‘god’ decided if he lived or died. 

Why would he possible be apologizing? 

 

It took a while for the boy to come completely back to himself. 

Lucifer had toweled him off, encouraged iced tea down his dry throat and settled him under the blankets. 

“What…Jesus, Cas…what were you thinking?” 

Castiel shook his head. 

Was he thinking? 

“Were you going to jump down and run away? You’d break your legs!” 

Cas shook his head again. 

No, that wasn’t it. 

“Try calling for help? After all this time?” 

“Wind.” the boy whispered, voice scratchy and tender. 

“The wind?” 

Swallowing painfully twice, Castiel took a small breath to sigh, 

 

“Just wanted to feel the wind…” 

 

Lucifer was silent for a long time after that. 

Cas drifted to sleep, the percussions in his temples insisted on it. 

In his dreams, he stood out on the balcony, breeze in his hair, a voice calling up to him. 

 

"I’LL BE BACK FOR YOU!".

 

Castiel hadn’t allowed himself to think about Dean or the others in months. 

He hid the note safely behind the baseboard of the closet. 

Hope hurt. 

Hope hurt more than anything Lucifer had done to him. 

And, damn it, he was so…so tired of the anguish. 

 

Balthazar didn’t return that week. 

They didn’t make any films. 

Lucifer was eerily attentive. 

Cas made himself as quiet and still as possible. 

Next time he set the man off, there was a very real chance he wouldn’t survive. 

 

Castiel sat, legs crisscrossed, on the bed, watching a horribly written Saturday afternoon movie when a demanding knock resounded from the front door. 

Wide blue eyes looking up at Lucifer, the man put his finger to his lips, shook his head and tip-toed down the hall. 

Cas heard the chain lock slide into place, the deadbolt unlock and Lucifer speak to the visitor through the crack in the door. 

He heard ‘FBI’. 

He heard the name ‘Balthazar’. 

And then he listened as Lucifer repeated the words ‘search warrant’ repeatedly before slamming the door shut. 

 

The man reentered the room, both hands running nervously through his black hair, 

“Fucking Balty! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” 

Castiel ached to ask what was going on but survival instincts commanded he stay quiet and still. 

 

Lucifer was already losing his shit. 

 

“Baby,” the man turned his steel blue eyes to Cas, “Pack your things. Everything, understand?” 

“Yes, Sir” he answered with furrowed brows, obeying immediately. 

The boy threw everything, unfolded and messy, in to a black garbage bag, taking time to pry the base board away from the wall and retrieve Dean’s note. 

Lucifer was on the phone, continuing to throw things in boxes. 

The camera and light fixtures were coming down in to a pile of chaos. 

 

“Azazel. Balty got busted. FBI’s reviewing evidence right now. Yeah…I know…they’ve already come by. They’re gonna get a warrant, I need all this shit gone, like yesterday.” Lucifer on the phone.

Castiel gulped, tempted to request his ‘medicine’. 

A group of agents, sitting around a TV and a DVD player, watching hours of Cas and Lucifer on that bed. 

The boy threw up until his stomach emptied, then continued with painful dry heaving. 

Lucifer said a few more things to Azazel, ending the call and leaned against the bathroom’s door frame. 

“It’s ok, baby. I’ll get you out of here. They won’t find you.” 

Like that was what he was worried about. 

Even if the entire bureau watched every minute of the hundred plus movies Lucifer produced, Castiel still prayed the FBI would get here with the warrant before he disappeared. 

 

“Crowley” 

Cas looked up from the bathroom floor to Lucifer putting his phone back to his ear. 

“Yeah…you ready for delivery?” 

Castiel rested his forehead against the cold rim of the toilet, tears pricking his eyes for the first time in months. 

He thought he had lost the ability to cry. 

As Lucifer moved back down the hall, still murmuring to Crowley, Cas stood to brush his teeth and splash cold water over his face. 

He looked in the mirror at a skinny, pale boy with black circles under his eyes. 

 

Another knock at the door and Castiel stopped breathing. 

It wasn’t the FBI. 

Azazel was there to load the equipment and take Cas to Crowley. 

 

Damn it. 

 

“Stay put!” Lucifer demanded, he and the yellow eyed man began running in and out of the apartment, toting boxes down stairs to Azazel’s awaiting truck. 

Castiel edged towards the door, digging for the courage to run. 

He lost every ounce of bravery when Lucifer rushed back in, catching the expression on Cas’s face and gripping his upper arm brutally. 

“NOT a good time to fuck with me, Castiel.” He spat through clenched teeth. 

“Yes, Sir.” The boy whispered, nodding. 

Lucifer maintained the vise-like hold on Cas, dragging him out the door and stumbling down the stairs. 

He was pushed in to the passenger seat of Azazel’s pick-up truck, Lucifer moved his fist from Castiel’s arm to his hair, yanked his head back and kissing him violently. 

Cas allowed the man to ravage his mouth but failed to participate as he had been taught. 

Breaking away, Lucifer rested his forehead against Castiel’s, panting. 

“I’m going to miss you, baby.” 

With that, he moved away, slammed the door and rotated back to the apartment building. 

 

Castiel stared at his fingers, fidgeting in his lap, blinking rapidly. 

“Buckle up, pretty.” Azazel’s voice inducing goosebumps as Cas complied. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

 

They rode in silence. 

Castiel watched the signs, determining they were headed East. 

Leaving ‘Hell’. 

Hopefully. 

 

“I saw a bunch of those movies.” 

Azazel’s voice broke the peace, making Cas’s stomach tighten painfully. 

Castiel began studying his hands again, tucking chapped lips in over his teeth. 

“Shouldn’t be ashamed, you know. You’re fucking gorgeous.” 

His calloused hand moved to the back of the boy’s neck, thumb stroking absently along the hairline. 

Cas closed his eyes tightly, holding his breath and fighting the need to pull away. 

He didn’t need to piss the guy off. 

Really didn’t feel like getting his ass beat right now. 

But he didn’t want to get fucked right now either. 

 

“Maybe…maybe if Crowley’s late…I can get a little taste.”

 

Castiel’s eyes opened to drop tears on to the back of his hands and he released the breath he was holding. 

 

Let’s hope Crowley is a punctual kind of guy.


	14. DEAN VI

Finding out that your brother has ‘visions’, and that that was the reason your mom ditched you for four years, is more than a little overwhelming. 

But Dean could handle ‘overwhelming’. 

He was 16 years old and had killed a man. 

Everything after that was flowers and rainbows. 

 

“Mom…you didn’t trust me? You seriously thought I’d tell Dad after everything he did?” 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I panicked. What your father did hurt and the thought of Sammy in an institution…I went a little crazy.” 

“But…four years, Mom?” 

Dean’s mouth in a straight line, shaking his head as tears rained down his cheeks once again. 

He’d never been such a cry-baby before. 

 

“Dean?” 

His little brother spoke up, those hazel puppy dog eyes still as adorable as they were when he was 8. 

“Yeah, Sammy?” 

“It’s my fault.” 

“What?” 

“Sammy…” Mary protested. 

“No, I asked Mom to send for you. The only reason you were taken…” 

“NO! Don’t go there, man. I made my own decisions. Fact is: I’m alive. Lisa’s alive. And I have my annoying kid brother back.” 

Sam grinned. 

“Jerk” 

“Bitch” 

“Language!” 

 

A soft knock on the doorjamb announced a visitor. 

“Dean, this is Agent Henriksen, he’s been helping us look for you.” 

“Hey…a real life Men in Black.” The boy joked. 

“Funny.” Victor gave a small smile. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to go over what happened to you Dean. As detailed as possible. Three months is a long time to be missing, statistically, we fail to recover kidnap victims after 72 hours.” 

“Love beating statistics, secret agent man.” 

“Dean…” Mary warned. 

“Look, I’m a perpetual smartass, can’t help it. If I start seriously talking about my feelings, I’m gonna lose my shit, ok?” 

“Dean! Language!” 

The boy gave his mom a ‘you can’t be serious’ face. 

Dragging another chair to Dean’s beside, Agent Henriksen took out a notepad and pen, 

“Let’s start from the beginning.”

 

Four exhausting hours later, Dean finally ran out of words. 

Mary had left a few times, trying to hide the sniffling as she fought tears. 

Sam was ordered out after the recall of Alastair’s first cut. 

Agent Henriksen shook Dean’s hand, patted Mary on the shoulder and headed to Lisa’s room for a similar interview. 

 

“Where’s Sammy?” 

“Cafeteria.” 

“Good, text him and tell him to bring me some pie.” 

Mary giggled and shook her head, “No way, young man. Doc says liquid diet for the next few days.” 

Dean wrinkled his nose, giving his mom a mock glare. 

“You call Dad?” 

“Not yet…I spoke to him when you were missing. He wasn’t very…helpful.” 

“Yeah…I can imagine. Think it might be better if I called him.” 

Mary looked disappointed. 

“You want to go back to Kansas when you’re released?” 

“No way” he answered, brows furrowed, “I couldn’t live with Dad again. Or listen to Kate and Adam talk about how my body looks like an unfinished coloring book.” 

“Dean…there’s plastic surgery and creams that will help with the scaring.” 

“That’s what the Doc said. I want to know what all the symbols mean.” 

“Dean! That’s…disturbing” 

“Yeah…well…what isn’t?” 

 

John flew out to Utah. 

At least the man had the decency not to bring Kate and Adam with him. 

There were loud arguments in the hospital hallway, at one point Agent Henriksen escorted Dean’s dad out until the man could calm himself.  
John was demanding. 

Demanding Dean’s release and return home. 

Demanding Sam’s hospitalization. 

And Mary? 

Mary wasn’t putting up with the man’s bullying for one more second. 

She called her attorney; the man secured temporary emergency custody of Dean for her. 

 

After listening to John blame Mary, or Sam, or even Dean for his circumstances, the boy told him to leave, asking hospital security to keep him out.  
John returned to Kansas the next day. 

 

Lisa came to say good-bye, her injuries weren’t as extensive as Dean’s, more psychological. 

With hugs and promises to stay in touch, the brunette left with her parents. 

Honestly, Dean thought it might be better if they didn’t talk for a while. 

Ripping band aids off healing wounds wasn’t going to help anyone. 

 

The skin carvings turned out to be Enochian symbols, meant to ward off angels. 

In Alastair’s twisted mind, Dean wouldn’t be able to get in to Heaven when he died.

 

Nice. 

 

Dean spent a month in the hospital before driving to Florida with his mom and Sammy. 

Dean Winchester did not do airplanes. 

 

He spent a lot of time that summer indoors, fighting agoraphobia. 

There were a lot of doctor and therapy appointments to keep him busy, force him outside. 

 

Dean called Agent Henriksen weekly to check in. 

He needed to know when they caught Azazel and Lucifer. 

Dean lived for the day Victor would phone to tell him they found Ash, Jessica, Cassie…

 

And Castiel. 

 

Most of his scars had faded, appearing as hills and valleys. 

Except the name across his chest. 

He rubbed abrasive tattoo removal ointments on it several times a day. 

Dean fought nightmares, flashbacks and rage. 

 

School was starting the end of August and although Sammy was excited to return, Dean and his therapist, Miss Mosley, convinced Mary to let him homeschool. 

He didn’t feel like a normal teenager. 

Dean had killed a man. 

Taken a life. 

There was no going back to ‘normal’ for Dean Winchester. 

 

It was September, lunchtime on a random Tuesday, when Agent Henriksen called. 

“Dean, I think we found Lucifer.” 

 

Mary brought Dean to the police station that evening. 

He sat in an interview room with Victor and several local officers. 

The Agent lined up three manila folders, each one open with nine photos taped inside. 

“Take your time, Dean. If you see anyone that looks familiar, point directly at the picture.” 

Green eyes studied each and every image until they fell on middle folder, bottom row. 

“That. That is Lucifer.” Tapping his finger on the man’s face. 

 

Agent Henriksen looked to the local cops, confirming they had witnessed the identification. 

“That” Victor began, “Is Nick Pellegrino. He goes by the alias ‘Lucifer’. He’s been arrested in California, charged with child pornography.” 

The Agent collected the folders in front of Dean, switching them out with three more. 

“Now, tell me if you recognize anyone in these photos.” 

They were all video stills. 

Only faces but the context was clear and Dean’s stomach turned. 

Some of the kids looking back at him were Sammy’s age. 

 

The very last folder, second picture in the first row, was bright, blue eyes. 

“Oh my God…” Dean sobbed, picking the folder up, bringing the image close to his face. 

“Dean?” 

“Jesus…Victor…that’s…that’s Castiel. The little guy, the quiet one I told you about. He’s…they made him…” 

The Agent gingerly tugged the folder from the boy’s grip. 

“But we have a lead now. We can offer Lucifer a deal; see if he’ll tell us where these kids are.” 

Dean rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, shaking his head. 

“They’re so many of them, Victor. What the fuck is wrong with these people?” 

 

Lisa messaged him that night; she identified pictures to an FBI agent that came to her home. 

-Lucifer didn’t look scared in that mugshot- LB  
\--of course he didn’t, he’s the fucking devil—DW  
-LOL. Did you see the other pics? - LB  
\--The ones of kids? Yeah—DW  
-at least Castiel’s alive, right?-LB  
\--yeah. At least he’s alive. Nite Lisa—DW  
-nite-LB

Dean couldn’t get the image of Castiel’s wide indigo eyes out of his head. 

The boy’s pupils were so dilated, Cas must’ve been stoned. 

He still looked terrified. 

But then, Dean couldn’t remember seeing Castiel when he wasn’t scared. 

Cas had been missing since January. 

What were the odds of finding him if that Nick guy didn’t talk? 

 

Thanksgiving came around. 

Sam and Dean both refused to go back to Kansas and spend it with their dad. 

Mary didn’t push. 

Still no further information on Castiel or any of the kids in Lucifer’s videos. 

Victor did say they had a potential lead on Azazel. 

 

Christmas found Dean ahead of his schoolwork, set for early graduation in June. 

Mary was talking college and career plans. 

Dean’s obsession with Castiel, human trafficking and child pornography led him to one answer. 

The FBI.

But he thought he would never pass the psych evaluation. 

So he planned to study criminal justice, followed by the police academy and with luck, become a cop. 

 

Sammy’s visions continued; he would get a flash of yellow eyes or a scared kid’s face. 

They called Victor each time. 

 

Every day. 

Every single day, Dean thought of Castiel. 

He told himself that it was stupid. 

That is was unhealthy. 

Exchanging a handful of words with the guy shouldn’t have such a dramatic effect on him. 

 

But it did. 

 

It did and Dean would never stop looking. 

 

Ever.


	15. CASTIEL VII

Azazel was obviously disappointed when he pulled in to a familiar motel and found Crowley’s town car. 

Castiel had zoned out, watching countless cars whizz by, waiting for someone to look over at him. 

But they never did. 

 

A large man opened the rear door of the vehicle and Crowley stepped out, looking somewhat regal in his tailored suit. 

“Azazel…” the man offered his hand as Cas’s driver as he exited the truck. 

“Crowley.” 

“Seems our dear friend was in a bit of a hurry today…after seven months of waiting, I wasn’t sure I would hear from the man again.” 

“He was enjoying his time with the kid.” 

“Oh, of that I am sure. I’ve seen several of his films. May I…?” Crowley stepped towards Castiel’s door. 

“Yeah, man. He’s all yours. Just need that fat envelope in your pocket there.” 

“Of course…” Crowley handed the parcel over, opening the passenger side door to usher Cas out. 

 

The boy stood barefoot on the cooling blacktop, staring at toenails Balthazar had painted black. 

“Hello Castiel.” 

“Hello, Sir.” 

Crowley crooked his index finger under Cas’s chin, forcing his head up. 

“Well, now. You look a little worse for wear, don’t you?” 

Castiel didn’t know how to answer that, so he kept his mouth shut. 

Quiet and still. 

“Come, it’s getting late and I’d like to get you settled.” 

The boy nodded, following Crowley to his car without a backwards glance at Azazel. 

 

The ride to Crowley’s pretentiously large home was silent; Castiel could feel the man’s eyes on him.

Cas kept his stare zeroed in on the back of the driver’s head. 

‘Benny’, Crowley had call him, jogged around the front of the car to open his boss’s door. 

“Follow me in, sweet Castiel.” 

And, as always, Cas obeyed. 

 

Heavy double doors opened to a grand foyer, crystal chandelier illuminating a wide staircase. 

Benny brought Castiel’s garbage bag of belongings in and Crowley dismissed him for the night. 

“My assistant, Meg, will be the one watching over you. Regrettably, I wasn’t expecting Lucifer’s call and I’ve given her the evening off.” 

 

‘Watching over you’? 

 

Cas nodded, looking at the large portraits lining the walkway. 

“You are allowed to speak, sweet Castiel.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Come; let me show you to your room.” 

He picked up his garbage bag and trailed behind the older man, up the stairs and down a short hall. 

Crowley opened the third door on the right, waving his hand for Cas to enter. 

 

The room was huge. 

Large, oak, four poster bed surrounded by matching nightstands and a dresser. 

There was on en suite bath, sunken tub and glass shower doors. 

A closet doored with mirrors and a television hanging on the wall. 

It was the nicest room Castiel had ever seen in real life. 

 

“I’m afraid most of your…belongs” Crowley indicated the stretched plastic bag, “will be disposed of. I’ll not have you dressing like a come dumpster while in my care.” 

A ‘come dumpster’? 

That was actually kind of funny. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Please” Crowley flicked the light on in the bathroom, “Shower and dress in the robe behind the door. The clothing you’re wearing will be replaced tomorrow.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“I’ll be back to check in on you in just a bit,” the man strolled towards the hall, “Please, sweet Castiel, do not try to leave this room. I’d rather not punish you so soon.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

 

The shower was nirvana. 

Water pressure and heat were perfect, the shampoo and soap provided didn’t smell like douchebag cologne. 

As for donning the fluffy gray robe, Castiel was more than happy to toss out his ‘come dumpster’ clothing. 

He was looking out the large picture window on the opposite wall, sun sinking down behind a line of trees, when Crowley returned. 

“Much better.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Come” the man patted the spot next to him as he settled on the bed. 

With a deep breath and a gulp, Cas sat as he was told and waited for Crowley to attack him. 

 

The assault didn’t come. 

 

“I’ve seen those movies, sweet Castiel.” 

Tucking his lips in over his teeth, the boy nodded. 

Everyone had seen those damn things. 

“I noticed your…attention, as it were, more than a little…impaired. Lucifer kept you drugged during your time together, correct?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“You’ll not be receiving any pharmaceutical assistance in my care, sweet Castiel. You’ll eat right, exercise and take pride in your body. We’ll be removing the nail polish and piercings as well.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“As polite and respectful your answers are, and I do appreciate that, I will ask you refer to me as ‘Master’ from now on. You will look me in the eye when you speak. Is this understood?” 

“Yes, Si…” Cas cleared his throat, raised his gaze to Crowley’s, “Yes, Master.” 

“Quick learner. Very good. Very, very good.” 

The man patted Castiel twice on his shoulder before standing. 

“I’ll bid you good night, sweet Castiel. We’ll speak again tomorrow, after you’ve rested.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

Crowley gifted him a smile as he left the room, clicking the door closed behind him. 

Cas stared at the exit for a while before convincing himself it was safe to let his guard down a bit and search through his bag for Dean’s note.

 

‘I’LL BE BACK FOR YOU’

 

Sleep didn’t come for hours. 

Without Lucifer’s pills, Castiel had to wait for his mind to shut down on its own. 

And the thing just wouldn’t shut up. 

 

Cas woke to a high pitched voice singing ‘Good Morning’ off key. 

Launching in to a sitting position, he blinked several times before realizing where he was. 

And that there was a short woman, brown wavy hair, fluttering around the room. 

“Rise and shine, Clarence. His majesty is expecting you for breakfast.” 

The woman pulled a set of clothes from the shopping bag in her hand, dropping them at the foot of the bed and strutting back towards the door. 

Spinning to pull the knob she smirked and added, “I’m Meg.” 

And then she was gone. 

 

Crazy ass tornado lady. 

 

Castiel dressed in black boxer briefs, blue jeans and a white t-shirt. 

No low riding snake print pants.

No half shirt with glittered graphics. 

NO silky pink panties. 

 

Crowley had told him not to leave the room and he didn’t know where the kitchen was, so he waited for Meg to come back. 

A quick three knocks on the door was all the warning he was allowed before the petite brunette popped her head in. 

“Ready, Clarence?” 

Cas wondered briefly if she believed that was his name or was just being annoying. 

He nodded, shadowing the woman down the stairs in to a large dining room. 

Crowley sat at the head of the long table, Castiel’s place setting on his left and another for Meg on his right. 

“Sleep well, sweet Castiel?” 

“Yes, S…Master.” 

“Good.” 

It wasn’t stale donuts or cold restaurant pancakes. 

Cas’s plate was filled with fluffy egg whites, turkey bacon and a generous slice of cantaloupe. 

“No need to wait on ceremony, Clarence” Meg plopped down in the seat across from him, “Dig in.” 

 

The meal was quiet, forks scraping lightly on china, sips of orange juice or coffee, no conversation. 

When they finished, a tall red head appeared from nowhere to clear their plates. 

Crowley leaned back in his chair. 

“Meg will give you a tour of the house and grounds this morning, after lunch I have a doctor visiting to give you a thorough check up. He’ll draw some blood; run a few tests, nothing too painful.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

“I’ll see you at dinner; afterwards you and I will discuss in detail what you may expect and what is expected of you. Understood?” 

“Yes, Master.” 

“Very well, then.” Crowley stood, buttoning his jacket and straightening his tie, “Meg, I leave him in your capable hands, my dear.” 

She gave the man a mock salute as he left. 

 

Meg dragged him through the house, pointing out the gym and Crowley’s room, chattering continuously. 

Castiel trailed behind her outside, the back yard holding a swimming pool and beyond that, horse stables. 

Cas didn’t participate much in the conversation; Meg didn’t seem to notice. 

He was trying to determine how far it was from Crowley’s property to the next house. 

How far he would have to run to find help. 

 

'You’re a smart kid, you get a chance to get free, and you go.'

 

Tuna fish sandwiches were eaten out on the patio before the doctor showed up promptly at 2pm. 

The man, a pinched face balding physician called Zachariah, drew several vials of blood, took a urine sample and declared Castiel underweight. 

Dr. Zach made a call to Crowley on his way out, Meg snapped the door shut behind him, leaning back against the wood and tilting her head. 

“Whatcha wanna do now, Clarence?” 

“Why do you keep calling me that?” 

“Because Crowley thinks you’re an angel, of course. Been murmuring and obsessing over you forever.” 

“Clarence is an angel name?” 

“Geez, kid! Would it kill you to watch a movie?” 

Castiel still didn’t understand the reference, deciding to change the subject. 

“What…what am I supposed to be doing here?” 

“Keeping his majesty company, of course.” 

“Does he have…people…keep him company a lot?” 

“No, actually. Last kid left a few years ago. Samandriel, I think his name was. I called him Alfie.” 

“You have a name for everyone.” 

“Yep. And you, Clarence, are boring me. Let’s go look online for new clothes, I can’t take you out shopping but we could still warm up Crowley’s credit cards a bit.”

 

The entire situation was surreal. 

Rich guy takes a twink porn slut in and goes all ‘Daddy Warbucks’. 

It looked like the only thing keeping Castiel here was Meg. 

 

He thought he may be able to take her. 

 

At dinner, the talkative brunette babbled on about how ‘well behaved Clarence was’. 

Castiel kept his eyes on his food, grilled chicken breast and steamed vegetables. 

Crowley took the whole ‘eating right’ thing seriously. 

Meg rattled off a list of things they purchased online. 

“Oh…and books. I mean, you could’ve hooked him up with anything and the kid asks for books.” 

“Books? Really?” 

“Yes, Master. Meg said you would not mind.” 

“No, of course not. I’m merely surprised. Did you do well in school?” 

“Yes, Master. Very well.” 

“Then we shall see about continuing your education. It would be nice to have an intelligent conversation.” 

“Hey!” Meg pointed to herself with both thumbs, “I’m sitting right here!” 

“Precisely, Miss Masters.” Crowley smirked. 

The woman rolled her eyes, smiling as she stood from the table,

“Need anything else before I cut out, your Majesty?” 

“No, thank you Meg. We shall see you in the morning.” 

“G’nite Clarence.” She winked. 

“Goodnight, Meg.” 

 

After a few moments of awkward silence, Crowley invited Castiel to join him in the den. 

A pair of velour sofas, a wall of book shelves and a stone fireplace, the room dimly lit and smelling of tobacco. 

“Please, sit, sweet Castiel.” 

Cas lowered himself to the edge of a couch, Crowley settling down next to him. 

“How old are you?” 

“I turned 16 last May, Master.” 

“And, before Lucifer, were you…sexually active?” 

The formal tone of such a personal question was off putting but Castiel had been fucked in every imaginable position on hundreds of hours of film. 

 

He could handle a little Q & A session. 

 

“No, Master.” 

“And, besides Lucifer, have you had sexual contact with anyone else?” 

“Um…his cousin, Balthazar, would…” he swallowed, trying to find the least humiliating phrase available, “he would…just…finish on my face.” 

“Ah, yes, I do recall that in a few of the man’s productions.” 

Castiel picked at his nail beds, nodding while his face warmed to a bright red. 

“I’m a very wealthy man, sweet Castiel. Because of my money, I am somewhat of a public figure. Now, my sexual preferences should not make a difference in business but, regrettably, it does. I prefer young men, under the legal age normally and this could prove an embarrassment to my company should that be made public.” 

The boy nodded in understanding, meeting Crowley’s gaze. 

The man looked somewhat…sad? 

“So, you are to be my companion. I shall take very good care of you and you will provide…comfort. You’ll not be made to wear costumes or act out ridiculous scenes as with Lucifer. As long as you are obedient and respectful, there will be absolutely no reason to discipline you. However, I do need to warn you, I own you. You are bought and paid for so if you attempt to leave me, try to draw attention to yourself somehow, you will be hurt. Have I made myself clear, sweet Castiel?” 

 

“Yes, Master.”


	16. DEAN VII

Dean’s 17th birthday was bitter sweet. 

Birthdays are always awesome, but it marked the anniversary of his abduction and brought back all sorts of memories. 

 

Just before Easter, Lydia joined his group therapy sessions. 

She was beautiful, blonde, projected an unnatural confidence considering her mother was bat shit crazy, stabbing Lydia eleven times to "save her from the sins of this world". 

Dean and the 16 year old hit it off immediately. 

They had similar tastes in music, liked the same films and were the only ones in the group able to joke about their trauma. 

No one else thought they were funny. 

 

Lydia’s dad was reluctant to let her date so they hung out at one of their houses most days when Lydia came home from school. 

He liked her. 

Liked her a lot. 

 

The summer after graduation found Lydia and Dean wrestling for the remote on her couch. 

She kissed him. 

It wasn’t a shy peck on the check. 

It was lips and teeth and tongue. 

Pulling back, she panted, “I’ve been waiting to do that for months.” 

Dean smirked, “Why didn’t you?” 

“I thought, eventually, you would man up and make a move.” 

Raising his brow, “Did you just challenge my manhood?” 

“Yes. Yes I did.” She winked. 

Jumping up, she tugged him to his feet, practically dragging him down the hallway to her room. 

 

It was nothing like he imaged. 

His body had trouble staying interested. 

There shouldn’t be long blonde hair to run his hands through. 

It should be short and black, glossy in disarray. 

The eyes Dean gazed into should be bright blue, not deep brown. 

It was wrong. 

It was all wrong. 

And afterwards, it was…uncomfortable. 

Laying half dressed in Lydia’s bed, 

“It’ll be better next time,” she assured him, “First time is always…awkward.” 

“No…” Dean moved to pull up his jeans, “I don’t think it will.” 

“What?”

“Get better, I mean.” Sitting on the edge of the bed. “I think…no… I’m sure…I’m gay.” 

Lydia sat up with a raised brow, “You just decided that now?” 

“No…I didn’t ‘decide’. I thought I was, but then I thought it was just one particular guy, not like, every guy.” 

Dean expected a slap, prepared himself for screams of insults. 

Instead, he received a giggle. 

“Dude…I totally thought it was me. Like you thought I was disgusting or something. I really didn’t think you were gonna be able to come.” 

“So…what happens now…?” 

Lydia stood to dress, shaking her head.

“Nothing. You’re my best friend. We’re just…’closer’ now.” 

Dean laughed loudly, “No kidding. Let’s NOT share this with Miss Mosley.” 

“Oh my god, could you imagine her face?” Lydia chuckled. 

“We’ll get kicked out of group. Then we’d have to find new dysfunctional people to talk to.” 

 

They moved back to the girl’s living room, settling on the couch. 

“So…who’s this ‘one particular guy’?” 

“I haven’t seen him in over a year. He was one of the kids abducted when I was.” 

“Oh… geez…sorry.” 

“He’s alive, I mean, he was last fall.” 

“How do you know?” 

“That line up I talked about in group, there was a second one, one for victims. Castiel’s picture was there.” 

“Castiel? That’s a really pretty name. Are they still looking for him?” 

“Victor is. 

I am. 

I’ll never stop looking.”

 

By the time Dean started college that September, the great and powerful Chuck must have decided his life had been running too smoothly. 

He was handling the flashbacks, nightmares and anger through medication and therapy. 

He had career goals, a loving mother, an annoyingly adorable brother and a best friend he could tell anything to. 

 

Then, his best friend peed on a stick and gave it to him. 

 

Lydia was pregnant. 

 

SHIT 

 

SHIT SHIT SHIT! 

 

The ‘do the right thing and get married’ idea was out of the question.

Besides, Lydia had just turned 17 and this wasn’t Kentucky. 

But Dean wasn’t an asshole. 

Of course he was going to take care of his kid. 

The little dude, or chic, would have the coolest, most well-adjusted parents ever. 

So he went to school during the day, worked evenings and weekends, pestered Agent Henriksen, took his medication religiously and never missed an appointment with Miss Mosley. 

 

Lucifer, Azazel and Alastair were a whole other lifetime. 

A whole other Dean. 

 

Strolling from class towards the parking lot, intent on grabbing a cheeseburger before starting his shift at the Gas-n-Sip, Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket. 

Victor. 

“What’s up, MIB?” 

“Dean. We’ve found him.” 

“Castiel!? You found Castiel!?” 

Dean stopped breathing.

“No…I’m sorry. Azazel. Azazel’s in custody and we have a lead on Edgar.” 

Releasing the air in his lungs, he tried to hide the disappoint lacing his voice, 

“That’s…that’s awesome. Do you think old yellow eyes will give up any info on the missing kids?” 

“He’s seems weaker than Nick, he’ll turn, I’m sure.” 

“Keep me posted, ok?” 

“Sure thing.” 

 

‘Three down’ Dean thought to himself, a small bounce in his step as he headed to Biggerson’s. 

 

Sammy shook him awake that night, 

“Dean…Dean!”

“Dude…what time is it?” 

“Like 3 something. I had a dream.” 

“A naked without your homework dream or a crystal ball dream?” 

“Vision. A kid with black hair, blue eyes, in a church, I think, there were stained glass windows. It doesn’t make any sense but…” 

“But Cas has black hair and blue eyes,” Dean finished, sitting up. “What else did you see?” 

“A dark colored car, tough looking guy and a priest.” 

“Street signs? Numbers on a building maybe?” 

“No…sorry. But I thought…I thought it might make you feel better. If it’s your friend, he’s still alive.” 

 

“Yeah, Sammy. It does. Thank you.” 

 

Although the details were sketchy to say the least, Dean called Victor to relay Sam’s vision. 

He could actually hear the man’s pencil scratching across the paper as the agent wrote everything down. 

Dean was so thankful the agent took Sammy’s premonitions seriously. 

Cas was still alive. 

There was hope. 

 

Azazel wasn’t talking. 

His cousin happened to be some rich bitch lawyer, Ruby Cassidy, and she wanted to make a deal. 

Lucifer wasn’t talking either, his attorney, not as well-known Marv Metatron, was holding out for a plea bargain as well 

Dean didn’t care what compromise the D.A. needed to make, he wanted to find the rest of his friends. 

 

Then, a skinny kid with choppy hair walked in to a police station in Colorado. 

 

Ash

 

He was dirty, malnourished, had long, infected, whip marks crisscrossing his sunburnt back. 

Ash had been forced to harvest herbs from the Rocky Mountains for a tea company, a corporation already under investigation. 

He had been given little food and water, slept outdoors with several other slaves, until he was finally able to organize an escape. 

Ash could’ve run by himself months ago, but he didn’t want to leave the ten other kids working beside him. 

They took some convincing, all terrified of punishment. 

The abused hero didn’t know where the others ran to but the police began their search immediately. 

 

They found five. 

 

Dean received the call from Agent Henriksen during class. 

He ignored the glare of his professor as he immediately ran outside to answer. 

“Dean…we have Ash.” 

The college freshman’s legs went to jelly; he dropped to sit on a step. 

“Is he…is he…” 

He couldn’t say it. 

Physically unable to speak the word. 

“NO! Dean, he’s alive. Strolled in to a police station, gave his name and asked for water. Just as calm and polite as you please.” 

Dean was crying. 

Bawling like a baby when class was dismissed and thirty student rushed by him, a few stopped to ask if he was alright, all he could do was nod. 

 

Ash 

 

Ash was alive and safe and…

Dean wanted to see him. 

Needed to see him. 

“Victor, where is he now? I have to be there.” 

“University of Colorado Hospital, Denver. I’ll call your mom, give us a few days to debrief him and we’ll fly you out.” 

“I don’t do planes, Victor.” 

“Make an exception, tough guy. We have three out of six and you kids need each other.” 

 

Two days later, Dean Winchester walked in to room 414 to find Ash enthusiastically destroying bacon cheeseburger with extra onions and Coke. 

The kid spit out the bite he was working on, jumped outta bed in his open-backed hospital gown and pulled Dean in to a rib shattering hug. 

The boys spent over five minutes, squeezing the air outta each other and crying. 

No pretense or embarrassment. 

Ash was here, safe, smelling of onions and sporting that ridiculous haircut. 

 

Even though Miss Mosley had advised Dean not to discuss the details of his torture, he and Ash spent hours trading their stories. 

Finally the nurse demanded Ash rest. 

Dean was ok with that. 

He slept in the chair next to the boy. 

 

Ash 

 

A friend. 

 

A hero. 

 

A warrior. 

 

Another reason to hope for Castiel’s safe return.


	17. CASTIEL VIII

For the next week, Castiel’s days fell in to a routine. 

Breakfast, exercise, lunch, study, dinner and then conversations with Crowley in his den. 

 

Crowley didn’t lay a hand on him. 

 

Until the eighth day. 

 

That evening, instead of settling in to the den, the older man took his hand, encouraging Cas upstairs. 

He settled the boy at the foot of the bed before pulling out papers from his inner pocket. 

“I’ve been waiting for this, sweet Castiel.” 

It took Cas a minute to recognize what the documents were saying. 

Blood test results. 

No STDs. 

 

That was what Crowley had been waiting for. 

 

When the boy looked up from studying the paper, Crowley had already begun to undress. 

Castiel closed his eyes, called himself an idiot for believing the older man only wanted a companion. 

“Clothes off, sweet Castiel.” 

Nodding, Cas stood, letting the paper drift to the floor and then tugged his t shirt over his head. 

“Beautiful…so beautiful, sweet boy…” 

Castiel looked everywhere but at the man, shuffling out of his jeans and boxers. 

He hugged his arms around his chest, a useless defense but Crowley's heavy breathing and soft endearments continued. 

“My sweet, sweet Castiel…” 

Crowley pulled Cas in to his arms, pressing all available skin together. 

“You’re trembling, I’ll not hurt you.” 

Cas didn’t believe that, but nodded against the man’s shoulder anyway. 

Castiel limply allowed Crowley to lay him on his back, crawling between his legs, peppering kisses across his cheeks before finding his lips. 

It was nothing like Lucifer. 

Lucifer was force, rough and pain. 

Crowley trailed his fingers over Castiel’s soft skin as if he were something precious. 

 

And that…that was worse. 

 

The goosebumps, the hardening of his cock, the tiny moans escaping his lip, his body betraying him, responding to Crowley’s tender touches and sweet words. 

Drugged, dazed, humiliated and hurt, he knew how to deal with that. 

Lucifer and Balthazar treated him like the hopeless slut he became. 

 

But Crowley…

 

Crowley made him feel worshipped, some alternate reality he didn’t want to live in. 

He wanted the pain and the fear. 

Kindness was just cruel. 

 

Twisted but true. 

 

Crowley kissed his way down Cas’s body, stopping to lick over each nipple and dipping his tongue into his navel. 

The boy was shaking only to arch off the bed when the older man took his dick into his mouth and suckled softly. 

Castiel whimpered, tossed his head side to side, fighting the biological need for release and losing. 

He cried out, a single tear escaping in to his onyx hair and came hard down Crowley’s throat. 

The man swallowed it all, licking up any trace from Cas’s member before trailing nips and licks back up Cas’s body. 

“You taste so sweet” Crowley breathed in to the boy’s ear. 

 

Moving back to palm the back of Castiel’s knee, he pushed them next to Cas’s head, lowered himself to tongue the pink pucker, every muscle in the boy’s body tightening in response. 

“SSShhhhh, sweet Castiel. Relax, breathe…” 

And Cas tried. 

Clenched his eyes shut and found the chant:

 

‘let it end’ 

‘let him finish’ 

‘let it be over’ 

 

But Crowley was taking longer to prepare him and by the time the man worked from one finger to three, opening Castiel up and prepping him with his saliva, the words weren’t helping. 

The man positioned his hands on either side of Castiel’s face, pushing in slowly…so achingly slow, watching the boy’s expression as the burning, raw pain caused him to bite his bottom lip until it bled. 

“Relax, sweet Castiel. Let me…just let me…” 

Crowley was panting now, movements still slow, calculating, until he found that magic button inside Cas. 

Castiel let out a gasp, lids flying open as Crowley pushed against his prostate over and over. 

His cock hardened again, the man’s own moans growing louder, as did his praise and encouragements. 

When Cas came a second time, painting stripes between their bodies, he cried. 

He felt dirty, ashamed, and slutty. 

 

Castiel the come dumpster. 

 

Crowley’s moans morphed to growls, pumps turned to feral thrusts until the man came violently, continuing to chase his orgasm through the aftershocks. 

He collapsed on Castiel, attempting to catch his breath, hot air drifting over Cas’s cold tears. 

“My sweet Castiel. You are going to make me very happy.” 

 

Cas had hoped Crowley would allow him to move back to his own room for the night, but the man cuddled around him, sticky and gross and then fell asleep. 

Castiel cried quietly, careful not to disturb his bedmate, studying the patterns of the curtains. 

He eventually fell in to a dreamless sleep. 

 

The next morning, Crowley took him again before he was allowed to return to his room and shower. 

The rest of the day followed the previous pattern, as if nothing had changed. 

Cas stayed on edge when the man came home from work, nerves made it impossible to eat. 

He stayed the night in Crowley’s room again.

 

And that was his life. 

Every single day the same, only the type of exercise and studying changed. 

Crowley was consistent, never missing a morning or evening fuck. 

 

Castiel’s favorite time of the day was swimming laps in the pool. 

He cleared his mind and concentrated on the water, the resistance and the weightlessness. 

It was his only escape, a mere hour a day. 

 

Autumn came around, the wind chilled and Crowley forbade further use of the pool. 

Cas changed to running laps around the edge of the property, evergreens marking the border he couldn’t cross. 

Meg sat on the back patio to keep an eye on him. 

At first, she was vigilant, went as far as to use binoculars when he reached the furthest part of the yard. 

After just a few weeks, her attention turned to games and social networks on her phone, only glancing up at Castiel occasionally. 

 

It was then he began to sing the words 

‘You’re a smart kid, you get a chance to get free, and you go. Got it?’ 

to a commercial jingle in his head. 

 

He had been with Crowley three and a half month, almost Halloween, when he reached the outskirts of the property, glanced back at his keeper and took off through the trees.

Castiel’s heart pounding so hard in his chest, the blood rush made him dizzy, but he kept going. 

He had to find his way out of the woods, there had to be a house or a road nearby. 

Someone would help him. 

They’d call 911 or take him to the nearest police station. 

 

Cas burst through the evergreens, finding a stone cottage reminisant of Hansel and Gretel and breathlessly pounded on the door. 

A burly man answered. 

A familiar form. 

Soft Louisiana accent asked, “Whatcha doin’ lose, little pet?” 

 

Benny 

 

Fucking Benny, Crowley’s driver lived right next door. 

This couldn’t be happening. 

“Please…just…just let me run the other way. You can pretend you didn’t see me.” 

“Nah, kiddo” Benny gripped the boy’s upper arm, “Mr. Crowley pays me well for my loyalty. I’m ‘fraid you’re gonna have to come with me, taking you back to your owner.” 

Castiel thought he would surely faint from the fear and anticipation of punishment. 

 

He fucked up. 

 

When they pulled up in front of Crowley’s grand house, the man was standing, arms crossed on the steps. 

Castiel stepped out of the car and immediately threw up. 

“Tsk tsk, sweet Castiel. You’ve been a bad little boy.” 

Cas looked up at the man’s disappointed face, his eyes watering as Crowley called back through the open doors. 

“Megan. Escort my pet to his room; make sure he showers and rests. Have Abaddon clean up this mess.” 

Returning his attention to Benny. 

“Thank you, Benjamin. Your loyalty and commitment to me is noted and appreciated. You’ll be compensated thoroughly for your time and inconvenience.” 

“Anytime, boss.” 

 

Castiel studied the cement steps under his feet, refusing to look at Crowley. 

Meg’s hand on his wrist startled him out of his trance, tugging him past his owner and up the stairs. 

 

“You fucked up, Clarence. I can’t help you.” 

“Wh…what is he going to do?” 

“I have a few ideas but none of them are pleasant. My advice? Obey. Do exactly as he says when he says. Even if what he orders you to do will hurt, trust me, it could always be worse.” She whispered. 

Cas nodded, entering his room and listening to a loud ‘click’ as his door locked. 

Instinctively, he moved to try the knob. 

Frozen. 

After a deep breath, he blew the air from his lungs and closed his eyes. 

 

Whatever the man had in store, he couldn’t be worse than what his dad and Lucifer had done. 

 

Right? 

 

Castiel took his shower as commanded, dressed and sat at the foot of his bed. 

Waiting. 

Trying to listen for voices or footsteps. 

Something that would give him warning before his discipline began. 

 

It was hours later, Cas had moved to looking out at the evergreen border he thought would be his salvation. 

A click of the lock was his only warning as Crowley entered the room without his suit jacket, his tie loosened around his open collar. 

“Sweet Castiel, I am very disappointed. Did I not take care of you? Was there something you wanted I didn’t give you? Something you needed that I couldn’t provide?” 

The man sounded sad, eyes glassy and Cas found himself in shocked silence.

Crowley crossed the room, edging Castiel back against the window, 

“I expect an answer.” His voice gruff, eyes narrowed. 

“Freedom” the smallest of whispers escaping Cas’s mouth. 

“Freedom, what?” 

“Freedom, Master.” 

Crowley delivered a cruel smirk, backing up to settle on Castiel’s mattress. 

“And what, sweet Castiel, would you do with your freedom?” 

Cas hadn’t expected the question, honestly unsure of the correct answer. 

“Would you go to the authorities? Have me arrested, perhaps? After your escape and subsequent freedom, where will you go then? Back to Lucifer? The man’s in jail as we speak. Maybe you’d like to return to your home in Indiana? With your drunken, abusive father and his inability to properly provide for you?” 

 

Crowley was right. 

 

His dreams of locating Dean, or Dean coming back for him, where just that. 

Dreams. 

Castiel had nowhere to go. 

No family to turn to. 

No friends to take him in. 

He was a 16 year old porn twink and kept houseboy. 

Cas’s only option would be foster care, maybe prostitution. 

How was either of these options better than the prison he was already in? 

 

The boy turned his moist blue eyes to the man in front of him and shook his head. 

“What’s that, sweet Castiel? Verbal responses, you know better.” 

“No, Master.” He murmured. 

“No.” Crowley repeated as he stood to approach Cas again, “No what?” 

Blinking rapidly, struggling to keep hopeless tears away, 

“No, I don’t want to go back, Master.” 

“Then why, my sweet Castiel, would you run from me?” 

Crowley sounded hurt, his words deceptively soft. 

“I…I didn’t think it through. I’m sorry, Master.” 

The man kissed him lightly on the forehead, 

“And you are forgiven, sweet Castiel.” 

 

Cas exhaled dramatically, leaning against Crowley’s chest in relief. 

Crowley stroked Castiel’s hair as he spoke in to the boy’s ear, 

“Regretfully, you will still need punishment. Discipline is the only way to ensure your behavior won’t be repeated.” 

Castiel tensed in Crowley’s arms, whimpering pathetically, “What will you do to me, Master?” 

“I don’t believe I’ll be able to cause you pain, so I will have to depend on a close friend to oversee your reprimand.” 

 

Crowley pulled away; wiping the tears from the boy’s reddened cheeks with his thumbs. 

“You will eat your evening meal in your room, no stubbornly starving yourself. My associate will be here approximately 10 tonight. You’ll have until then to ready yourself.” 

Crowley turned, strolling back to hall. 

Castiel found his voice, squeaking out, 

“Readied for what?” 

With a final glance over his shoulder, the tremble in the man’s voice hardly audible as he responded. 

 

“He’s going to hurt you, sweet Castiel. Even I won’t know how until he has finished.” 

 

It was on Cas’s tongue to plead, tempted to throw himself on the ground and beg for mercy but Crowley had left, latching the door securely behind him. 

 

Leaving Castiel alone with his imagination and horror.


	18. CASTIEL IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BACK TO BACK CASTIEL CHAPTERS. 
> 
> TOO FAR BEHIND DEAN'S STORYLINE.

Castiel choked down his supper as commanded, only to promptly throw it back up. 

He couldn’t stay still, pacing the floor for the next four hours, watching his bedside clock click away the minutes to 10pm. 

 

When the door unlocked with an echoing ‘click’, Cas almost lost control of his bladder. 

A tall man, with a bone chilling smirk and suit as expensive as Crowley’s, stepped in, scanning Castiel from head to toe. 

“Well, now. Aren’t you a pretty one?” 

The boy couldn’t breathe, staring in terror at cold eyes. 

With just a few long strides the man was in his face, promptly clipping Cas in the jaw and dropping him to the floor unconscious. 

 

Castiel awoke naked, cold, hanging by his wrists from, what appeared to be, water pipes. 

Rusty drips sprinkled down on his shoulders and hair every few seconds. 

The boy shook his head, instantly rewarded with a stab to his temple and the reminder of the large bruise swelling on his jaw. 

It was the moan of pain that caught the attention of his keeper. 

This was a different man than before. 

Dark skin, big white teeth and wide bloodshot eyes smiled just inches from Cas’s face. 

 

“Had to wait for you to wake up, no fun unless I can hear you scream, ya know.” 

Castiel scanned the room silently. 

Gray cylinder block wall, a long woodened table holding several items Cas couldn’t identify and the tall man from his room, leaning comfortably in a worn leather chair. 

 

‘I won’t scream, I won’t beg. I didn’t with dad or Lucifer; I’m not going to now.’ 

 

Castiel continued to recite the mantra in his mind, sucking his lips in over his teeth and watching the dark man move to the table. 

“This is my good friend Gordon,” the man in the chair introduced, “He’s very good at teaching lessons, aren’t you Gordo?”

“Love my job, Mr. Roman,” Gordon quipped, rolling a metal box with attached cables closer to Cas. 

The boy couldn’t stop the gulp of dread, studying the device. 

It was only when his capturer pulled a brown leather strap holding two small cymbals, shoving the band around his head that he figured it out. 

He’d seen things like this in horror movies. 

 

Electrocution. 

 

Castiel was wet; it didn’t take an honor roll student to figure out electricity plus moisture equals death. 

Or at least a painful heart attack. 

Gordon flipped a switch on the rectangular machine, producing a loud humming sound. 

Cas chastised himself, the pain hadn’t even started and he was already crying. 

 

Dean was hung just like this in the trailer. 

He fought, kicked and cursed and bloodied Azazel’s nose. 

Castiel wanted to be as brave as his hero, but the escalating vibrations coming from the device seriously dampened his bravado. 

Gordon pushed a faded red button and the pain in Cas’s head was indescribable. 

Every single muscle in his body locked up in one instance, his teeth snapped together, jaw clenched causing a cracking sound in his molars. 

The electricity ran through his body for all of three seconds, but it seemed like forever. 

Castiel’s chest ached and the instant Gordon released the button, Cas’s head fell forward and he threw up down his bare chest. 

 

Mr. Roman chuckled from his seat in the corner.

“What did you do wrong, little guy?” 

Cas refused to answer, truthfully, he couldn’t physically speak. 

Gordon’s boss nodded at the dark man again and he promptly pressed the control. 

 

Three more seconds, Cas knew he was going to die. 

He just knew it. 

 

This time, when the lighting disappeared, he had nothing left in his stomach to vomit. 

Coughing and dry heaving encouraging the agony in his chest. 

 

“Now, little guy. What did you do wrong?” 

Gasping for oxygen, Castiel raised his crimson face to whisper, 

“I…tried…tried….run….” 

Mr. Roman nodded. 

“Tried to run away, tsk tsk tsk little guy. Change it up Gordo.” 

 

Gordon pulled the strap off of Cas’s head, ripping several ebony hairs with it and then wheeled the boy’s nightmare away. 

 

He returned with a black leather whip, the end divided in to several small strips. 

The man flicked to lash the tips of the cat-o’-nine-tails across Castiel’s chest and stomach. 

Welts grew instantly, Cas jerking in his bindings, screaming. 

“Careful Gordo. Crowley said no permanent marks and nothing sexual.” 

“Nah, boss. These’ll go away in the next few days. Turn him over for me?” 

Mr. Roman casually strolled over, gripping Castiel’s shoulder, maneuvered him around so his raw welts pressed against the dirty, damp bricks. 

 

The whipping began again, this time is was much more than a few strikes, they continued until the boy lost count…

Then lost consciousness. 

 

Castiel awoke to freezing water assaulting his entire body. 

He wasn’t hanging painfully from the pipes anymore. 

 

He lay on his back, skin screaming; on fire as splinters stabbed in to his wounds. 

Cas’s head was hung slightly off the end of the wooden table, body immobile. 

Gordon placed a towel over his face, holding it tightly as he poured the frigid water over it. 

 

The water seeped through the fabric, filling Castiel’s mouth and nose, introducing the very real sensation of drowning. 

He struggled to sit up, shaking his head back and forth in an attempt to avoid the liquid filling up his lungs. 

Gordon halted the downpour, removed the towel, allowing Cas to turn his head and cough violently, choking out the water and gasping for air. 

“I never get tired of watching you do that one, Gordo.” Mr. Roman called from the other side of the room. 

 

The water torture repeated four more times before Castiel’s resolve broke, 

He begged.

He pleaded. 

He bargained. 

He promised. 

 

“I’ll be good…I’ll be good…I’ll be good…” 

 

“Think he’s just about delirious now, boss. Should come back in an hour and start again.” Gordon suggested. 

“No…no…no…” Castiel changed his song. 

Mr. Roman moved to stroke the boy’s hair, glaring down at him. 

“What did you do wrong?”

After several swallows, Cas lifted his head, whimpering, 

“I ran." 

 

“Exactly.” 

 

The two man team left the room, Castiel coughed, gasped and cried himself in to oblivion. 

True to Gordon’s word, they returned sometime later working the pain in the opposite direction. 

Water, then whip and then electrocution.

Cas’s begging and pleading, his ballad of “I’ll be good” whispered with every available breath. 

“Crowley said to keep it light the first time, let’s finish up, I’ll take you to breakfast.” Roman sighed. 

Finish up…that sounded promising. 

 

It wasn’t.

 

Mr. Roman rolled up his sleeves, strolling over to the broken boy as Gordon saddled up next to him. 

They began to punch. 

And beat. 

And kick. 

Castiel’s screams were ignored, his bleeding inconsequential, a few good strikes to his temple, forcing his head back against the wall and he joyfully escaped to his beloved blackness. 

 

He came back to the living lying safely in his bed. 

There wasn’t a single spot on Cas’s body that didn’t hurt. 

He couldn’t move, unable to open his eyes more than a sliver, his lips swollen and throat Sahara dry; Castiel was voiceless. 

 

“Welcome back, Clarence.” 

Meg’s tone unusually soft and sympathetic. 

Cas could only whimper in response, surprised to find tears could actually escape. 

Small fingers combed through his hair, 

“You’ve been out for two days, I thought maybe you had brain damage but Zachariah said it was just swollen. I’ve been with you the whole time, you actually look much better now.” 

Castiel tried to answer, nothing escaped but a pathetic whine. 

“Are you asking for Crowley? He won’t come see you until you’re completely healed. That’s why he sent you over to Dick’s. His majesty can’t stomach seeing his…companions…in pain.” 

The boy sensed his body shutting down again, he needed to escape back to the darkness. 

“Don’t do that again, Clarence” Meg was whispering in his ear, “Please…” 

 

Castiel healed slowly over the next few weeks, his vision returned and he was able to sip through a straw although his IV remained to administer pain killers and antibiotics. 

The thought of escape, of defiance made him physically ill, throwing up what liquid he had in his stomach and reviving the agony of his injuries. 

 

Crowley made sure Meg and Zachariah took care of him, one of them with him at all times. 

Cas told himself he would never disobey his Master again.  
He could be a good boy. 

Always a good boy. 

Quiet and still. 

 

Always a good boy. 

 

It was almost a full month before he recovered enough to see Crowley. 

His master entered his room, Castiel immediately latched his arms around the man’s neck, burying his face in to Crowley’s shirt and sobbing. 

“I’ll be good…I’ll be good…I’ll be good…” 

Crowley cupped the boy’s cheeks, leaning his head to stare into broken blue eyes. 

“I know you will, sweet Castiel. My good boy.” 

The man pressed lightly on Cas’s shoulder, lowering the boy to his knees, Castiel gazing up at him with submissive confusion. 

Crowley unzipped, pulling his half hard cock out. 

“Show me what a good boy you are.” 

And Cas obeyed. 

He would always obey. 

He was a good boy. 

He took Crowley’s member in to his mouth, lathering his tongue around the base, sucking lightly and humming, just the way his master liked it. 

“Good boy…my sweet Castiel…my good boy…” 

The man gripped Cas’s head, thrusting in to his mouth, fucking his throat, Cas relaxed his jaw and tucked his lips over his teeth. 

Crowley came with a growl, shoving himself as far into Castiel’s mouth as possible. 

The boy swallowed every bit, fighting tears. 

Crying would upset his master. 

 

And Castiel would do anything not to upset his master again. 

 

From that day on, Cas’s entire world revolved around Crowley. 

He ate, slept, exercised, studied and fucked exactly as he was told. 

Thoughts of escape or defiance were erased. 

Dreams of Dean and his note disappeared. 

Castiel never pulled the ragged paper from its hiding spot. 

 

He waited by the door each evening when Crowley returned from work. 

He sat at the man’s feet in the den after dinner, leaning his head against his master’s leg as Crowley read or discussed current events with him. 

Castiel stripped naked without instruction, climbing in bed with the man each night to worship his master. 

 

And he was a good boy. 

 

It was late October when he attempted exodus, Thanksgiving skipped over while he was healing, at Christmas, Crowley returned to his parent’s house in Scotland. 

By Easter, the weather had warmed enough for his master to open the pool. 

Castiel had his hour of heaven back. 

 

The Monday after the Fourth of July weekend, just after lunch, Benny and Meg received coinciding text messages from Crowley. 

The FBI had entered his office building. 

They needed to get Castiel and every bit of evidence he existed out of the house before the agents arrived at Crowley’s home as well. 

Through the confusion and chaos, Cas did as he was told, packing his things, making sure to grab Dean's note and rushing to the car with Benny. 

 

The sky was darkening, rain flicking on the roof, the boy watching drops of water race one another on the window. 

“Where are we going, Benny?” he asked softly, head tilted to one side. 

“Crowley’s gonna hide ya at Dick’s house for a bit, til the heat wears off.”

 

Dick?

 

Dick Roman? 

 

No, that couldn’t be right. 

Castiel was a good boy, damned near perfect. 

His master wouldn’t send him back to that man. 

“No…Benny…are you…are you sure…?” 

The driver nodded, catching his eye in the rearview mirror and Cas screamed. 

He shrieked, clawing at his locked door, breaking his nails and then bruising his fists as he pounded against unbreakable glass. 

 

Benny pulled sharply in to the nearest gas station, circling the vehicle to enter the backseat with the boy. 

“Hey…hey…calm down, kid. You’re not going for punishment. It’s ok, he’s not going to hurt you.” 

“Kill me." Cas whispered. 

“What?” 

“Benny, please, oh God please, kill me.” He mumbled. 

“Can’t do that, you’re gonna be alright.” 

Castiel started digging his broken nails in to his face, scratching deep valleys down his cheeks as he screeched. 

 

This was it. 

He finally, FINALLY, lost his mind. 

 

Benny gripped both of Cas’s wrists, holding them down and looking in to boy’s terror stricken face. 

“I’m going in to pay for gas. I’m leaving my cell and wallet in the front seat. The doors are unlocked.” 

The driver nodded, releasing his hold and climbing out of the back seat, walking in to the Gas-n-Sip without so much as a backwards glance. 

 

Blood dripping down Castiel’s face, his heart racing, head dizzy with residual adrenaline from his outburst. 

But...escaping would get him punished again. 

'You're going to Roman's house anyway...' he thought. 

 

Fuck it! 

 

Cas grabbed the money from the wallet, left the cell behind and ran. 

He chased shadows down the alley to the street behind the convenient store. 

Rain mixing with blood turned his face pink and he ran. 

 

The laps he did in pool, the daily exercise, Castiel was nearly a mile away before Benny returned to the vehicle. 

 

And he kept running.


	19. CASTIEL X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE MORE CASTIEL CHAPTER BEFORE WE GET BACK TO OUR BELOVED DEAN. 
> 
> STAY WITH ME...

Castiel was lost. 

It was dark, raining, he had run himself straight in to exhaustion and couldn’t even tell what state he was in. 

Huddling under the overhang of a closed donut shop, he pulled Benny’s money from his pocket, flipping through the bills. 

$238 

Ok…not a lot but better than nothing. 

Maybe he could get a cheap motel for a night or two, just until he could figure out what to do. 

 

Castiel couldn’t think of a single person he could call. 

 

Definitely not his dad. 

Pretty sure the police would be a mistake. 

Cas didn’t know Dean’s last name, even if the kid still remembered him. 

 

Castiel was alone. 

 

Tugging his knees to his chest, he pulled in to himself, shutting down. 

Cas just needed a minute to think.

He hadn’t planned on dozing off against a brick wall in the middle of a strange city. 

 

“You’re a smart kid, you get a chance to get free, and you go.”

 

‘I’LL BE BACK FOR YOU’

 

A crackling boom pulled him back to reality.

The rain had matured in to a full grown storm, complete with thunder and lighting. 

Darkness blanketed the streets, the only light shining from a church across from the donut shop. 

The small lantern above the double doors and the illumination through several stained glass windows shadowed the sidewalk. 

 

Slowly rising to his feet, tolerating the stinging of his extremities as circulation returned, Cas stumbled over shiny, wet black top. 

Opening one of the heavy wooden doors cautiously, he peeked in to see rows of pews, a candlelit alter and a giant crucifix overtaking the wall behind it. 

It was warm, dry and seemingly empty, so the damp boy found his way to the middle, resting at the edge of a bench. 

 

A quiet, calm voice floated from behind Cas, startling him out of his seat. 

“Sorry…didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” 

The cheerful priest strolled up from the back, reaching out a hand in introduction, 

“I’m Father Jim.” 

“Castiel” returning the handshake. 

“The Angel of Thursday” Father Jim nodded knowingly. 

Cas allowed a small smile to escape, “Yes, Sir.” 

“Well then, have a seat, Angel. Tell me what brings you out in this weather.” 

Nervously, the boy sat back down, the priest settling just behind him, both turning sideways to face one another. 

 

“I am…I just needed to rest a bit. I can leave…” 

“No, no! You’re welcome here. Everyone is welcome in God’s house.” 

“I was not aware God needed a house.” 

With a chuckle and a small head shake, 

“No, I suppose God doesn’t need a house. But we do. We need a place to meet and worship together.” 

Castiel nodded in understanding. 

“Are you Catholic, Castiel?” 

“No, Sir. Unaffiliated.” 

“MMmmmm,” Father Jim stroked his chin thoughtfully, “but you believe in God?” 

“I have no doubt God exists.” 

“Really? It’s unusual to see such strong faith in a man so young.” 

Cas shook his head, explaining, 

“It is not faith, Father, it is logic.” 

The priest raised his brows, questioning silently. 

“There cannot be a Heaven without a Hell, correct?” Castiel reasoned. 

“Correct” Father Jim agreed. 

“And there could not be a Devil without a God…” 

The priest continued to nod, waiting for the boy to continue. 

“I am certain there is a Hell, Father. I have lived there. I know there is a Devil, I have met him in many forms.” 

Castiel’s statement stunned the priest in to silence.

“So there is a Heaven, my mother is there. And there is a God because I am still alive.” 

 

A comfortable silence hung between them as Father Jim considered Cas’s argument. 

“You have struggled a great amount for one so young.” The priest stated, seeming to study the deep scratches marring an otherwise beautiful face “How old are you?” 

“17, Sir.” 

“What…what are you doing out alone?” 

 

“Leaving my latest Hell and most recent Devil.” Castiel answered matter-of-factly. 

 

Father Jim appeared to be considering Cas’s last statement when the boy stood, offering his hand, 

“Thank you for your hospitality, Father.” 

The priest shook his hand, tilting his head to the side in thought. 

“I have a cot in a small room next to my office…you’re welcome to stay here the night.” 

Castiel raised his brow suspiciously, “I thought all that altar boy / priest stuff had been squashed.” 

Father Jim threw his head back with laughter that echoed through the church. 

“I assure you, Thursday’s Angel, that will not be an issue in my parish.” 

 

Cas wanted to trust him. 

Desperately needed to feel safe, even if it was a single night. 

Telling himself that nothing worse could possibly happen to him, he agreed. 

“Thank you, Father.” 

 

A single night on a thin cot turned in to a week. 

Father Jim offered him the spare room at the priest’s home as well as a job as the groundskeeper. 

Castiel accepted with sincere gratitude. 

 

The Father never made a move on him, never said or acted remotely inappropriate. 

They had long theological discussions although Cas chose not to attend mass. 

He was learning more and more about agriculture, studying which flowers would attract the most bumble bees. 

Castiel loved bumble bees. 

Physically, they shouldn’t be able to fly. 

It defied simple physics. 

 

But they do. 

 

A former amateur porn star and kept whore shouldn’t be best friends with a man of the clothe, let alone live and work with a priest. 

 

But he did. 

 

Cas fell in to a very scary place. 

Contentment. 

Almost…happy? 

There were no cages, rapes or beatings. 

Castiel was free to come and go as he pleased. 

 

He saved some of the money from Benny as well as the wages Father Jim’s parish paid him. 

One day, he would find his own apartment. 

Maybe get his GED. 

 

And that worn piece of paper he snuck in to his sock as he rushed from Crowley’s house found a home in the front pocket of his jeans every day. 

Maybe, just maybe, he would see Dean again. 

Castiel could show him he escaped. 

That he survived. 

 

As the seasons changed, Cas’s duties moved from mowing and weeding to raking leaves. 

He had settled in Nevada of all places. 

That made sense; Lucifer kept him California, close. 

 

Watching the news with Father Jim one evening, Castiel gasped as a familiar face popped in the upper right hand corner. 

Ash

“Padre, can you turn this up?” 

The priest furrowed his brow, clicking the remote. 

 

‘-….. the young man is thought to be part of a human trafficking ring enslaving countless children around the country...-’ 

 

The perky brunette anchorwoman continued to babble on, offering further details but all Castiel could do is stare at the skinny kid’s picture. 

“You know him, Thursday?” Father Jim whispered from his recliner. 

“I do” Cas surprised to find tears on his face and a hitch in his voice, “He’s alive. He’s alive and safe.” 

“You know…” the priest began, lowering the television’s volume, “I’ve never asked for details on your Hells or your Devils, Castiel. I thought you would tell me in your own time. But if this, if this situation is similar to yours, if you know this boy because of what you’ve been through together, we should really call the FBI, or the police. Something.” 

The broken boy turned to lock eyes with his only friend, 

“Father Jim, I did not pick tea leaves or sleep outdoors. What I did…” he closed his eyes and exhaled, “What I was required to do, I never want anyone to know. I have no desire to have my picture on that screen with my name flashing beneath it.” 

“I understand, Thursday. What if you can give them information that will bring these predators to justice? What if you can save another child from this?” 

Tears were falling again, “I know several of the men have been dealt with, if Ash is alive, there’s a very good chance the others survived too. I do not have any more information to give them. I…I could never return home. Never face my dad again.” 

An awkward silence, only broken by the occasional whimper from Castiel as he struggled to stop sobbing, covered the room through the next commercial break. 

As the news resumed, Cas turned his attention from his friend to the reporter once again. 

This time the camera crew followed Ash as he left the hospital, a tall, green eyed boy next to him. 

 

DEAN!

 

Castiel leapt off the couch, reaching the flat screen and running his fingertips over Dean’s image. 

He looked good. 

Strong, confident, healthy, free…

ALIVE! 

Dean was safe and helping Ash in to a silver minivan before disappearing after him. 

Cas looked over his shoulder at the priest, 

“Where did they say this was again?” 

“Um…Colorado, I think.” 

“That’s not that far…” Castiel murmured. 

“Angel? Are you alright?” 

“Yes” Cas smiled broadly, “I am wonderful.” 

 

Thoughts and ideas of traveling to Colorado were considered, dismissed and then considered again. 

Cas would have no idea where they were staying, if they were still in the state. 

It was possible for Dean to have come to visit Ash in the hospital but leave once the other boy was safe. 

The only way to be sure, the only possible source of information would be the FBI and Castiel hadn’t found the courage to call them. 

 

Yet.

 

Leaves had abandoned naked trees weeks ago; Cas was currently working on repairs to a fence at the back of the church. 

Feeling particularly proud of himself when the gate swung without squeaking and closed tightly when shut, Castiel gathered Father Jim’s tools up to head inside. 

The boy had never been very mechanical, always more of a thinker than a doer. 

So, with a strut in his step and a smirk on his face, he almost skipped through the back door, intent on bragging to his friend. 

 

There. 

Standing a few feet away from the alter, talking to Castiel’s favorite priest was 

 

DEAN. 

 

Emerald eyes instantly found sapphire ones and time froze. 

Father Jim’s voice faded away, the details of the church and everything in it disappeared. 

There was only Dean. 

Neither boy moved for several minutes, both crying quiet tears as they simply studied one another. 

Finally, after shaking his head and blinking his eyes rapidly, assuring that Dean actually stood in front of him, that this was not a dream or hallucination, Castiel found he was able to move again.

 

Reaching in his front pocket, eyes never leaving Dean’s freckled face, Cas took five steps across the floor, holding a tattered page out. 

A flicker of confusion passed though Dean’s expression as the older boy took the paper, unfolding it. 

 

‘I’LL BE BACK FOR YOU’

 

Dean’s head jerked up in surprise, the broadest smile possible spreading across his handsome face. 

 

“Heya Cas”


	20. DEAN VIII

After a week in the hospital, Ash was finally going home. 

And Dean would have to return to his real life and responsibilities in Florida. 

As he pushed his friend’s wheelchair towards the exit, Victor approached. 

 

"The media is out front in full force. My advice, keep moving and don’t answer any questions.” 

“How did they even know Ash’s story?” 

“Someone working at the hospital” Ash suggested. “It’s cool, man. Get me to the soccer mom minivan and we’ll peal out. My mom drives like a maniac on a good day.” 

Dean nodded with a chuckle, pressing forward, out the double sliding doors and through the flashes of light and yelling of questions. 

Some inquiries were down right insulting and disgusting, both boys bit their tongues as they climbed in to the vehicle. 

“Giddy-up, Momma!” Ash quipped, his dad shaking his head in disapproval from the passenger seat. 

 

When they arrived at Ash’s parent’s hotel room, Dean attempted to excuse himself, allow the family to reconnect but Ellen and Bill refused to let him escape. 

Opening the door to the suite, Dean discovered another man waiting on the couch. 

“Dean, this is Garth’s dad, Garth Fitzgerald the second. We call him ‘Mr. G’.

The boy reached to shake the man’s hand but found himself pulled in to a breath stealing hug instead. 

Dean had never met Ash’s best friend, only knew that the boy had been beaten to death in the same cage he been entrapped. 

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled into Mr. G’s ear. 

The man pulled away, holding Dean at arms link and scanning the boy’s face, 

“Garth would have been thrilled to know so many survived his terror. I think he would’ve liked you, son.” 

“Agreed” Ash offered softly, “Garth was a hugger, just like Mr. G here.” 

 

It was agreed upon that they would all go to dinner, Ash and his parents as well as Mr. G would be leaving in the morning. 

Dean’s flight was scheduled just a few hours later. 

 

At 2:17am, Dean knew this because the blaring light of the digital clock screamed it, his phone rang. 

 

Sammy 

 

“Bitch, it’s the middle of the night…” 

“Dean! I saw him again, that Casty kid.” 

The boy sat up board straight. 

“Where?”

“It was the church again, but this time, I had a flash of neon lights. Like the strip in Las Vegas.” 

“So…you think Castiel is in Vegas?” 

“Well, at least Nevada. You’re close right? I’m pulling out my laptop now, Googling Catholic churches in the state.” 

“Sammy…there has to be hundreds of them…” 

“Yeah, but if I find one that looks like my dream, you can check it out before you come home.” 

“Sammy, seriously. I love you, Bitch.” 

“Ew, Jerk. No chick flick moments.” 

Dean could almost hear the wrinkling of Sam’s nose through the phone.

“I’m going to rent a car, Mom’s gonna kill me but I’ll pay her back. Let me know the second you find something.” 

“Yep, call you back.” 

“Thanks Sammy.” 

 

The next hour was Hell.

Dean couldn’t rent a car at 3am, searching the internet for churches wouldn’t help, he didn’t know what the parish in Sam’s vision had looked like. 

He did send a message to Ash. 

Thankfully, the other kid had been more than receptive to Dean’s stories of Sammy’s premonitions. 

He thought of texting Lisa as well, but she had been only slightly interested at the news of Ash’s return. 

Apparently she was in a serious relationship with a guy named Matt, reasoning that their trauma had happened almost two years ago and she was moving on with her life. 

Dean took that as the dismissal it was, turning his attentions to Ash and, hopefully, Castiel. 

 

At a quarter to 4am, Sammy called back. 

“St. Michael’s on Vida Street in Reno.” He announced enthusiastically. 

Dean’s heart raced. 

This was the closest they had been to finding Cas since the films found with Lucifer.

“Shit Sammy, its still four hours before I can even leave Sandy.” 

A muffled voice in the background answered. 

“Mom says take a bus if you can. She’ll pay for it.” 

Another mumble from Mary and Sam relayed, 

“Or take a cab as far as it will go, then call another one. There’s a train too. She called Victor as soon as I woke her up. He’s leaving in the morning.” 

“Shit!. I’m hanging up, calling the bus garage and getting my ass over there. Make sure to thank Mom for me.” 

 

Dean paced the room, throwing his belongings in his duffel as he tucked his cell between his cheek and shoulder, finding a train leaving at 5am. 

Three transfers and he would be in Reno in just a little over twelve hours. 

Shooting one more text to a sleeping Ash, he trotted out the door and walked the eleven blocks to the station. 

The air was cool, a chill in the wind but Dean poured sweat. 

He struggled with himself, desperate not to get his hopes up but overwhelmed by the feeling of ‘this is it! I found him!’ 

 

Leaning back in the padded seat of the Amtrak, the boy attempted to sleep. 

It was a losing battle. 

Five minutes here, another seven minutes there, he couldn’t squash his excitement or his optimism long enough to doze. 

Exhausted, he texted his Mom, Sammy and Ash to let them know when he finally arrived at the station. 

Dean could barely breathe as walked the four minutes to find St. Michael’s. 

It was just after 5:30pm when the boy nervously opened the church doors, wandering slowly down the aisle, scanning side to side for a clue that would assure him Castiel was there. 

 

“Hello." 

A priest welcomed him, turning from his candle lighting at the altar. 

“Hello, Father. I’m looking for my friend.” 

“Well, I’d be more than happy to help you. What’s your friend look like?” 

“Um…shorter than me, black hair, pale skin, the bluest eyes in existence.” 

The priest grinned broadly, opening his mouth to respond when a door to the right opened. 

 

Castiel. 

 

Castiel stood in the doorway, sun setting in the sky behind him; he truly looked every bit the angel Dean had remembered him to be. 

Dean didn’t feel the sting in his eyes or the moisture of his tears. 

He stared at Cas, watching shining drops weave down the smaller boy’s face. 

Castiel closed his eyes, shook his head and then looked back up at Dean. 

 

With a shy smile, Cas pulled something white from his pants pocket. 

He confidently strolled towards Dean, never speaking a word, offering the mystery item to him. 

The older boy’s brow furrowed in uncertainty, accepting the folded piece of notebook paper. 

Delicately, Dean opened the parchment and read five very faded words. 

 

‘I’LL BE BACK FOR YOU'

 

Dean’s smile took over his entire face, scanning the note a second time before gazing up at those breath taking eyes, the ones that had haunted his dreams, and sighing reverently, 

“Heya Cas."

 

“Hello Dean." 

 

The priest had disappeared; the newly found friends spent just a few more moments studying one another before Castiel slid in to Dean’s arms with heart breaking sobs. 

“You did.” Cas hiccupped quietly in to Dean’s ear. 

“Did what?” Dean asked softly, holding Castiel tight, stroking one hand down his back, another cupping the smaller boy’s head. 

“You came back for me.” 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find you sooner” Dean whispered, tears falling in to Cas’s onyx locks, “I tried, Cas. I swear I never stopped looking.” 

Castiel pulled his head back to study the older boy’s face. 

“Please, please don’t apologize. You’re here. I don’t know what happens next, but you’re really here.” 

Cas rested his head back on Dean’s shoulder. 

To think Castiel had remembered him, waited for him, kept that six year old year old letter all this time. 

 

Dean enjoyed the overwhelming sense of peace pouring over him in waves. 

 

The moment was regrettably interrupted when the front doors opened again and Dean’s favorite MIB, along with two unfamiliar agents, entered the church. 

Cas turned his head towards the sound without a moving an inch away from Dean. 

“You called the cops?” he whispered.

“No, Cas. This is Agent Hendrickson from the FBI. He’s been helping me look for you. He’s one of the good guys.” 

“I…I don’t want…” 

“It’s going to be ok, sweetheart. I promise.” 

Dean felt Castiel relax in his arms, thinking how just a few stolen minutes in the back of a semi-trailer could connect two people so completely.

The object of his obsession, the broken blue eyed boy, trusted him without reason or logic. 

 

Dean would never

NEVER 

Betray that trust. 

 

A few hushed words with Victor and Dean had permission to stay with Castiel when they insisted on taking him to the local police station for questioning. 

“I need to tell Father Jim where I’m going” Cas insisted, turning to dart through the door next to the altar. 

Dean had nervously begun to consider that Castiel may have run when the kid returned, fidgeting with his fingers and nodding with a gulp. 

“Ok, Dean.” 

 

The agents wouldn’t allow Dean in the interview room, he walked circles outside the door. 

It was close to midnight when Agent Hendrickson opened the door, escorting Castiel out. 

Both Victor and Cas had obviously been crying. 

Whatever horrors the boy had been through, the terror must’ve been unimaginable for a seasoned FBI agent to produce tears. 

 

“He’s a minor Dean” Victor preparing for an argument the boy hadn’t even started yet, “Castiel will have to stay in police custody until a guardian can be appointed.” 

“You mean foster care.” Dean accused. 

“It’s not as bad as you think. Foster parents are good people.” 

“I want to stay with Dean.” Cas’s soft voice rose from behind them. 

“He’s only 18, Castiel. I can’t release you to his care.” 

“Then call Father Jim. I’ve lived with him for almost four months. He’s a priest for Chuck’s sake!” 

The agent sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“It’s the middle of the night, I’m exhausted and Castiel’s just spent hours talking. Give him a break, Vic.” 

“Fine. I’ll call the priest. But don’t think about taking off. Now that this kid,” Victor paused to point at Dean, “has found you, he might be able to leave me in peace.” 

Cas leaned against the older boy as Dean answered, “Not likely MIB. I’m still missing a few.” 

 

The ride back to Father Jim’s was quiet and a little uncomfortable. 

Dean had no idea what the priest knew about Castiel. 

The little bit he was aware of, the movies and abuse from Lucifer, happened over a year ago. 

Cas still hadn’t spoken much, clinging to Dean as if the older boy might disappear any moment. 

Father Jim agreed to let Dean crash on the couch; Castiel hugged him good night and went to his room. 

 

Only twenty minutes later, the boy returned with his pillow and comforter, settling on the floor next to Dean and reaching up to intertwine their fingers. 

 

“Heya Cas.” 

 

“Hello Dean.” 

 

“It’s going to be ok, sweetheart. I promise.” 

 

"It is now..."


	21. CASTIEL XI

Knocking. 

Someone was knocking and Castiel refused to move. 

He wasn’t ready to wake up from the best dream he ever had. 

A dream where Dean had found him. 

Cas laying on the floor, the older boy on the couch, whispering to one another until dawn. 

Sharing different versions of Hell with one another. 

Offering empathy, understanding and comfort.

The knocking continued and causing Castiel to squeeze his eyes tighter. 

 

“Dude…” 

A gruff, sleep deprived voice drifted from the opposite direction. 

Sitting up with a start, Cas found himself looking at tired green eyes, perfect pink lips dipping down at the corners.

“What time is it?” 

Dean grumbled, burying his face back in to the couch cushions as the sound of knuckles hitting wood continued to reverb through the living room. 

Castiel stumbled to his feet, glancing at the starburst wall clock to answer, 

“Looks like around noon, I think.”

Shuffling over to answer the door, Cas chuckled as his friend complained. 

 

The sun was bright, burning his retinas and causing him to blink rapidly before regaining the ability to focus on the visitor. 

A beautiful blonde woman smiled broadly, offering her hand. 

“You must be Castiel.” 

Foster parent. 

Damn. 

He thought he would have more time with Dean before he had to run away from a foster home. 

 

Castiel shook her hand politely as Agent Hendrickson and a younger boy desperately in need of a haircut, joined the woman on the porch. 

“Good morning, Castiel. May we come in?” 

“Oh, I am sorry, of course.” After temporarily forgetting his manners, Cas opened the door wider. 

 

“Mom?”

Dean’s sleepy voice traveled from the couch. 

“Hey sweetheart. You look tired.” 

“Um…yeah…we just crashed a couple hours ago. What…why…” 

Dean’s mom laughed quietly, 

“Sammy and I flew out as soon as Victor called us.” 

Cas stood outside the conversation, confused and dying for caffeine.

“I am going to make coffee, would anyone else like some?” 

Four hands went up, causing Dean to glare at his younger brother. 

“Sammy can have juice, he’s too young.” 

“Jerk” 

“Bitch” 

“Language!” 

 

Castiel couldn’t help but grin at the family’s interactions. 

They seemed to relay such affection with few words. 

As the coffee brewed and a short visit to the bathroom, Cas came back to settle next to Dean on the couch. 

Agent Hendrickson cleared his throat, glancing at Dean’s mom for a second. 

“Castiel. I’m afraid I have a bit of bad news.” 

Cas waited, heart racing and eyes wide.

After everything he went through, he finally reconnected with Dean, what could possibly go wrong now? 

“Your father passed away last July.” 

Castiel waited. 

He waited for grief or anger or relief. 

Nothing. 

He felt numb, as if the FBI agent’s announcement meant nothing to him. 

“How?” 

“Apparently he had a large amount of candles lit throughout the mobile home. They believe he fell asleep and burned the trailer down around him. It seems he never woke up.” 

Cas nodded. 

 

Candles? 

 

“The land belongs to you, it will be held in trust until your 18. We’ve looked for extended family…” 

“You will not find any. I searched after my mother passed. It was just us.” 

“I’m sorry, Cas” Dean offered. 

Castiel gave a sad smile, uncomfortable with the sympathy focused on him, 

“I will get the coffee.” 

 

Father Jim didn’t have one of those fancy serving trays, Cas managed to loop the handles of four coffee mugs, tucking a bottle of OJ under his chin, tip-toeing back in to the living room. 

Sammy saw him first, popping up quickly to help, 

“You have your hands full!” 

Castiel allowed him to take two of the mugs, catching bright hazel eyes and a cheery smile from Dean’s younger brother. 

“You know” Sam began, “I’ve been seeing you over a year, in my visions. Never caught a glimpse of you smiling before. It’s nice.” 

Cas nodded, grinning again. 

“Dean told me of your help in finding me. Thank you Sam.” 

With a wink from Sammy, the boys lowered the drinks to the coffee table. 

 

“So…foster home?” Dean asked, nose wrinkling. 

“Actually” Mary began, “I believe Marv has a bit of a crush on me. My lawyer pulled a few strings, bent a few laws and had a local judge approve your placement with us. Victor’s influence helped considerably.” 

Cas and Dean were both speechless. 

“It’s your choice though, Castiel.” The agent added, “You can stay here with Father Jim, the man is an angel if I’ve ever met one. Or, you can move to Florida with Dean and his family.” 

The boy looked down at his fidgeting fingers. 

He loved the priest, loved him more than his biological father. 

 

But Dean. 

 

Dean had been his dream for almost two years. 

His beacon of light at the end of a dark road. 

Part of him knew it was ridiculous, to attach himself so thoroughly to a kid he hardly spoke to in the back of a metal container. 

The other part didn’t care. 

 

Castiel wanted Dean. 

 

Cas looked up from his lap, teary eyed and overwhelmed. 

“Dean. I want to go with Dean.” 

A loud sigh of relief exhaled from the hero next to him, Dean’s smile covered his entire face. 

“Oh great,” Sam pretended to whine “Another big brother.” 

 

Brother. 

 

Castiel really like the sound of that. 

He only hoped that was not how Dean saw him. 

 

Cas packed his few belongings, riding with the FBI agent to St. Michael’s.

Saying good-bye to Father Jim was heart wrenching. 

The priest hugged him tightly until Castiel’s tears subsided. 

“I’ll miss you, Thursday.” He mumbled in Cas’s ear. 

“I will miss you, Father. I will never be able to thank you for your kindness.” 

With promises to keep in touch, Castiel walked out of the church and in to Mary’s rental. 

 

It was Cas’s first plane ride. 

Apparently Dean had flown out to see Ash and needed a double dose of Xanax to maintain. 

The same medication and a secret shot of whiskey from Victor and the older boy passed out in the seat next to Castiel. 

A slight grin on his otherwise relaxed face. 

“You know” Mary began, “He’s going to be so much happier now. Dean’s refused to let you go for so long. We’re your family now.” 

“May the force be with you.” Sam quipped, adjusting his head phones. 

“And with you.” Castiel grinned before resting his head on Dean’s shoulder and taking a much needed nap. 

 

On the ride from the airport to Dean’s house, Mary gave her son a light hearted lecture on his extended absence. 

“You’ll need to catch up on your assignments, Steve was kind enough to hold your job for you and you’ve missed Lydia’s ultrasound. Thankfully Missouri was understanding as well.” 

“Lydia?” 

Cas felt a pang of jealousy. 

Why would Dean go to someone’s ultrasound?

“Lydia is Dean’s baby-momma.” Sam chirped. 

“Oh…” 

Castiel felt like he had been punched in the stomach. 

He was so stupid. 

Dean had a girlfriend, a child on the way and probably saw Cas as Sam did. 

 

As a brother. 

 

Of course, it wasn’t the older boy’s fault Castiel had romanced their budding relationship. 

Cas was just…he was…

He was an idiot. 

And now, he had to live with the object of his affection, watching Dean’s ‘happily ever after’ with someone else. 

 

“I messaged Lydia the entire time I was gone, Mom. She told me we’re having a girl. We agreed on the name Emma Maryanne.” 

“Aw, sweetheart. I love it!” 

Castiel stayed quiet for the rest of the ride, only answering direct questions from Mary about school and future plans. 

Cas ignored Dean’s obvious expression of concern. 

The younger boy wasn’t ready to act as if everything was peaches and cream. 

He needed an hour or so to mourn the loss of his fantasy world. 

 

Arriving at the Winchester’s house, the family scurried about in mild chaos, rearranging Dean’s room to accommodate Castiel. 

Cas wished he could request staying with Sam instead. 

The thought of watching Dean and his girlfriend lying on the bed, feeling their baby kick, made Castiel fight the urge to vomit. 

 

He shouldn’t be so selfish. 

He should be happy for his friend. 

Dean did what he promised. 

The older boy had come back for him. 

Why would Cas expect more? 

It was unfair to his friend. 

 

With a deep breath and a fake smile, Castiel unpacked his few belongings, made his bed with Dean’s childish Star Wars sheets. 

“I was not aware they were still producing these.” 

“Hey! No dissing the trilogy, man!” 

“I believe there are seven films now.” 

“Only the original three are worth mentioning, Cas. I’m going to have to school you on the classics.” 

Castiel’s very unmanly giggle was genuine and he believed having Dean’s friendship would be worth the heartache. 

Dean deserved to be happy. 

 

His placement test put him at college level but he had to graduate high school. 

The very idea of strangers bumping in to him in the hallway gave Cas the first of many panic attacks. 

Mary arranged homeschooling as she had with Dean and then made an appointment with Missouri. 

Cas liked Miss Mosley immediately. 

She was sympathetic without being judgmental. 

As illogical as Castiel’s guilt and shame were, she assured him it was completely normal and that, one day, he would get past it. 

Dean and Lydia attended a group session once a week. 

Cas couldn’t imagine telling his story to a bunch of kids in a circle. 

The very idea gave him nightmares. 

 

He enjoyed Sam’s company a great deal. 

The boy was intelligent, funny and his premonitions were fascinating. 

Castiel read his dream journal, shocked at the accuracy and details of Sammy’s visions. 

“Do you still have dreams concerning the other captives?” 

“Only one, Dean says her name is Cassie. I don’t think she’s in America.” 

“Really? She would be very hard to find then.” 

“But…she’s alive.” 

“Then we should all hold on to that.” 

 

Agent Hendrickson came out twice more to interview Castiel. 

Crowley had been arrested but his money and influence allowed him to bond out very quickly. 

Apparently Dick Roman was famous, his image on the cover of magazines and the nightly news. 

Victor was reluctant to inform Cas that they didn’t have enough evidence to prosecute him and without Gordon’s last name, finding him would be next to impossible. 

 

And then, Castiel’s worst nightmare came true. 

 

He had finally found the courage to go to the mall with Sam and Dean. 

They were shopping for baby clothes for Emma, her daddy was determined that his little girl would not be dressing in pink every day of her life. 

Finding a Led Zeppelin onesie with the caption, “Whole Lotta Love” was locating the Holy Grail.

Dean almost skipped through the mall. 

He’d never admit that though. 

 

Out of nowhere, two men appeared, mouths open in surprise and eyes wide. 

“You’re Castiel!!!” once shouted in excitement. 

Cas looked around, as if someone else could possible share his unique name. 

“Yes…do I know you?” 

The man’s companion placed his hand over his heart, gushing

“We have seen ALL your movies! You’re amazing!” 

 

Castiel couldn’t move. 

 

Several people passing by stopped to stare at the display. 

Sam and Dean were both tugging at his arms, Dean’s demands that they were mistaken and needed to walk away were ignored by the couple. 

When the first guy pulled a receipt out of his shopping bag, begging for an autograph, Cas’s vision went blurry, his entire body shook. 

The last thing he heard before Sammy caught him and blackness took over was Dean’s shouting profanities at the couple. 

 

Castiel had fooled himself in to believing he could forget the past and start over. 

 

He would never be anything more than a twink porn star. 

 

A boy bought and sold for sex and pain. 

 

Cas would never fully escape.


	22. DEAN IX

Castiel had blacked out for all of ten seconds. 

Enough time to give Dean a mild heart attack. 

Thankfully, security had shown up, ejected the duo of dicks and offered to call Cas an ambulance. 

 

“No, no thank you” Castiel shook his head, “I only had a dizzy spell. I am fine, thank you.” 

Sam and Dean managed to maneuver the poor kid to a nearby bench where Cas closed his eyes, leaning his head to rest on the older boy’s shoulder. 

“That is going to happen a lot.” He mumbled. 

“What is? Fainting?” 

“No…people who saw those films, people who will recognize me.”

Dean had no way of reassuring his friend. 

He was right, this wouldn’t be the last time those damn movies popped up. 

 

Sammy had disappeared, returning a few minutes later with a frozen coffee and a small smile. 

The tears trailing down Castiel’s face as the younger boy tried to comfort him in his own unique way broke Dean’s heart. 

 

Something had happened to Cas between Nevada and Florida. 

He had been so affectionate, hugs and hand holding; Dean ate up every touch. 

Then, Castiel became distant. 

As if making an extra effort not to touch Dean. 

 

Here, on a bench in the middle of the mall with a few stragglers watching, Castiel cuddled against Dean’s chest, burrowing his head in to the older boy’s shoulder, attempting to control his breathing. 

Dean wrapped his arm securely around Cas, wanting to protect him from the curious eyes and the assholes of the world. 

When he felt his friend relax, Dean pressed a kiss into Castiel’s messy hair and promised, 

“Doesn’t matter how many people see those movies, Cas. I know the real you and I will always love you.” 

Cas moved from Dean’s embrace, locking those gorgeous blue eyes with emerald ones, 

“You…you love me….?” 

The words came out in an awed whisper. 

 

“Well, this is officially uncomfortable.” Sam announced, walking backwards, “I’ll be at the Apple store when you two are...uh...done ” 

Dean chuckled at his baby brother before moving to cup Cas’s face with both hands, stroking his thumbs over the boy’s cheeks to smear away the tears. 

“I guess this was a bad time and place to tell you. I know you don’t feel the same way and that’s ok. I’m always going to be here, Cas. Always going to protect you and keep you safe.” 

Dean reached in to his jean pocket, holding out a worn piece of notebook paper. 

Castiel didn’t open it, simply smiled and place the parchment in to his own pants pocket. 

 

“What about Lydia? I cannot imagine coming between you and the mother of your child, Dean.” 

“Lydia?” after a few heartbeats of confusion, understanding and relief flowed over Dean. “You thought me and Lydia?” 

Castiel nodded, brows furrowed. 

“Aw, shit Cas. Lydia’s my best friend, we fooled around one time and, tah-dah! : Emma!” 

Cas’s face was absolutely priceless, morphing from fear, to disbelief, to acceptance and finally gifting Dean with a tearful smile. 

“I thought you cared for me as a brother. Like Sam.” 

“No, Cas. Is this why you’ve been so distant? Pushing me away?” 

“It was not my intention to push you away. I…” 

Dean interrupted Castiel with a soft, feather light kiss on slightly chapped lips. 

“We’re going to work this out, sweetheart. You and I.” 

 

After the pair caught up with Sammy, they made their way to the parking lot. 

Dean believed the universe was a truly remarkable place. 

How a humiliating confrontation in the middle of the mall finally cleared up all the clouds between himself and Castiel…

 

Dean’s life had turned in to one big blur of activity. 

School, work, constantly checking on Lydia and spending his evenings with Castiel, doing homework and talking late in to the night. 

They shared everything.

He told Cas details of his torture he hadn’t even told Missouri. 

And the stories Castiel told in the dark of night, made Dean’s blood boil. 

He wants to spend just a few minutes alone in a room with each of the animals that hurt his friend. 

Friend? 

Boyfriend, maybe? 

 

That question answered itself after Castiel experienced a particularly violent nightmare, climbing in to bed with Dean. 

The older boy held him tight as Cas trembled and whimpered. 

“It’s ok, sweetheart. It’s over. You’re safe.” 

Dean combed his fingers through Castiel’s constant disarray of locks, gifting occasional soft kisses to the younger boy’s forehead. 

 

They fell back to sleep like that, waking in the morning to Sammy’s declaration of 

“Oh gross!” 

Dean smirked, pulling Cas in closer. 

“Do you think your mother will be upset?” 

“Nah, I think she’s been expecting this for a while now.” 

Castiel’s blush was absolutely adorable. 

“Mary had given thought to you and I sleeping in bed together?” 

Dean’s laughed echoed of the bedroom walls and he thought he had never been so happy in his entire life. 

 

Of course, happiness for the Winchesters, and apparently Castiel, never lasted very long. 

 

Lucifer had finally received a court date. 

California’s state attorney’s office sent a prosecutor to interview Cas, with Agent Hendrickson in attendance, in an attempt to prep him for testifying. 

They wouldn’t allow Dean in to the room with him, once again, he paced the hall and waited for his sweetheart. 

Castiel came out in tears, of course, Victor and the prosecutor stayed behind. 

“Hey, babe. You alright?” 

They settled in a few worn chairs lining the hallway. 

“He…Lucifer…” Cas took a moment to catch his breath, “He will take a plea, meaning I would not have to testify in court and the movies would not be shown to the jury as evidence.” 

“Ok…that sounds like a good thing.” 

“He has one condition to accepting the bargain. Lucifer wants to talk to me. In person. He insists I visit him in prison before he will agree to anything.” 

“NO! No fucking way, Cas!” 

“He would be behind glass, Dean. He cannot touch me. Lucifer will never touch me again.” 

“Babe! You can’t seriously be considering this!” 

Castiel’s expression told Dean he had already made up his mind. 

 

Thankfully, they didn’t schedule Cas’s conversation with the devil until after New Year’s. 

That left the family free to celebrate Christmas without too much drama. 

Giving Castiel a perfect holiday became Dean’s main focus. 

That and a ridiculous amount of baby toys for an infant that wasn’t due to enter the world for another four months. 

 

Mary had the house decorated, putting Better Home and Gardens to shame. 

John surprised them, sending presents, even one for Castiel, which Dean was suspicious of. 

He had to make sure the damn thing wasn’t ticking. 

Dean and Sam each had a long conversation with their dad Christmas day, clearing up a lot of hard feelings. 

It wasn’t perfect, Dean had to fight from arguing with John a few times but at least the man tried. 

 

And Castiel was happy. 

He didn’t stop smiling all day. 

At one point, Dean watched him massage his aching cheeks. 

That, in itself, was the best Christmas present Dean could ask for. 

 

The week before Cas’s visit with Lucifer, constant nightmares kept the boy from sleeping. 

He threw up almost everything he ate. 

No matter how much Dean begged his boyfriend to cancel the trip, to be brave and push for a trial, Castiel would shake his head. 

“I have to do this Dean. Missouri said it is closure. I just want this to be over with.” 

“But you’re making yourself sick, sweetheart. There has to be a better way.” 

Cas placed a tender kiss on Dean’s cheek, holding his gaze and offering a sad grin. 

“He cannot hurt me anymore Dean. I do this and I am free. Then I will sleep and eat as much as you want.” 

 

Lucifer was incarcerated in California, which meant another plane ride for Castiel. 

This time, Dean couldn’t come. 

He had taken too much time off from school and work last Fall, recently catching up and finding his groove again, he stayed behind. 

Whatever good that did. 

Dean couldn’t concentrate on his courses and seemed permanently distracted at work. 

 

Lydia’s appointments had progressed to once every two weeks and Dean came with her every chance he could. 

Emma’s sonogram picture proudly framed on Mary’s mantel. 

No sense fighting nature, the single beds in Dean’s room switched out for a queen, opening up a place for a pink and black draped crib. 

Dean decorated the corner with posters worthy of christening his daughter’s space. 

Zeppelin, Star Wars, Batman… all the important things little Emma needed to learn about. 

Dean and Lydia had already decided that the baby would spend one night a week at his house until she was six months old, then he would have her every other week. 

The new father had every intention of stopping by Lydia’s daily. 

 

Only three more months… 

 

Dean stood in the airport, nervously waiting for Castiel to arrive. 

He just knew his sweetheart would walk off the plane destroyed, in tears and needing a lot of comfort. 

Nope. 

Cas strolled in, wide smile on his face, reaching for his boyfriend; pulling him in to a tight embrace. 

“What is happening to that man is far worse than anything I have experienced. Karma is a wonderful thing, Dean.” 

Dean pulled back a little to look at Castiel’s expression. 

They had texted and called the two days he was gone, but the look of pure peace on his boyfriend’s face said everything his IPhone couldn’t relay. 

He didn’t ask what Cas thought Lucifer was going through. 

Dean knew exactly what happened to pedophiles in prison. 

Castiel was right, Karma is wonderful thing.

Especially when she’s an enraged bitch. 

 

Dean continued his group sessions with Missouri and Lydia but had dropped to just once a month, more ‘checking in’ than pouring his heart out. 

Of course the subject of Castiel would inspire him to ramble, much to the amusement of the rest of the group. 

He kept in touch with Ash, attempted to keep tabs on Lisa. 

Both survivors were happy to learn that Lucifer had been put away without either of their testimony. 

Lisa took the time to call Cas and thank him, which surprised Dean.

She had been so closed off. 

Ash, with his genius ass, studied at MIT. 

He kept in touch on a regular basis, insisting on Skyping and teasing the couple relentlessly. 

 

And Dean was cautiously happy. 

 

Until Crowley, of course. 

Fergus McCloud refused all plea agreements. 

Proclaiming his innocence and insisting on a jury trial. 

Nevada prosecutors declared there wasn’t enough evidence to charge Dick Roman and the mystery ‘Gordon’ had never been found.

 

This meant more obstacles for Castiel. 

 

Dean had killed his demon. 

Literally. 

The PTSD, the nightmares, flashbacks, panic attacks, medication and therapy, all easy prices to pay compared to Castiel’s ongoing battle with reliving his torture over and over again. 

 

Sex wasn't an issue for the couple. 

An unspoken agreement between Castiel and Dean. 

Cas needed time. 

And Dean would wait forever. 

 

One night, lying shirtless in bed with Cas, as they whispered memories to one another, Castiel traced his fingers over Dean’s forgotten scars. 

Well, almost forgotten. 

The deep ones on each rib, where Alastair had exposed the bones, remained pink ropes no matter how much ointment and massage Dean tried. 

But it was the one on his chest. 

 

A L A S T A I R S

 

No one could see it unless they searched for it. 

Like Castiel’s misshaped nipples from the unwanted piercings. 

Suddenly, Cas jumped out of bed, searching through their desk draw and with a smirk of success, he returned to the mattress with a large black Sharpie. 

“What are you doing?” Dean asked with humor. 

“Trying something. Stay still. Close your eyes.” 

Dean obeyed, a grin never leaving his face as strong smelling, cool ink traced over his chest slowly. 

“Now, come with me.” 

Castiel led him blindly to the bathroom;placed him in front of the mirror. 

“Open them” he whispered. 

His chest sported large ebony letters over his most hated scars. 

 

A L A S T A I R S 

 

Turned in to:

 

*C A S T I E L S*


	23. CASTIEL XII

After the embarrassing confrontation at the mall and Dean’s unexpected confession, Castiel’s emotions ran hot and cold for a while. 

 

He was terrified of the contentment he felt. 

The safety he experienced for the first time since his mother passed away. 

Cas waited for the shoe to drop, the shit to hit the fan, for reality to punch him in the stomach. 

It wasn’t a punch, more of a sharp kick that took his breath away and bruised his insides. 

 

Lucifer. 

 

Castiel had been so ready to put that man in the rearview mirror and forget he existed. 

Missouri said that forgetting wasn’t possible, the hurt and anger would dissipate over time. 

But the devil himself would not let Cas off that easy. 

 

The California state attorney’s office sent a lawyer out to see him, to review his testimony and prepare him for a twelve man jury to see documentation of his rapes. 

Who could possibly prepare for something like that? 

“There is another option” the man in the blue suit offered, glancing at Agent Hendrickson before continuing. 

“What is it?” 

“Nick will take a plea bargain if you’ll talk to him.” 

Cas blinked several times. 

He couldn’t have heard that right. 

“Talk to him? Like on the phone?” 

“No, he insists that he’ll go to trial unless you see him in person.” 

“This is a joke, correct? I do not find it very funny.” 

“I apologize, Castiel. You are under no obligation to consider this. I, myself, would advise you not to.” 

Cas stared at Victor for a few moments, gaging his opinion through the expression on his face. 

 

“I will do it.” 

 

Convincing his boyfriend would probably be harder than speaking to Lucifer. 

But the thought, the very idea, of seeing this man in person brought unwelcome tears to his eyes and he soaked up the love from Dean as soon as he saw him. 

Dean always made him feel better, braver, stronger and…important. 

 

Castiel had a stay of execution, the trip to California would be in January, giving him the first real Christmas with the first real family he had since his mother was alive. 

And, damn, he missed his mother. 

Felt a bit guilty for not missing his father. 

Even after the local police theorized the reasoning behind his dad’s candle burning. 

 

The fire happened on Castiel’s 17th birthday. 

 

Dean, Sammy and Mary made his sure his holiday was perfect. 

He truly felt as if he belonged. 

After hearing stories of John, Castiel was more than shocked at the Kindle the man send him. 

Winchesters were amazing people and Cas never forgot to be thankful for them. 

 

Leaving Dean at the airport was dramatic. 

Castiel desperately wanted his boyfriend with him but understood that, even with all the Lucifers and Crowleys in the world, life goes on. 

Agent Hendrickson flew with him, he didn’t talk much but offered the occasional awkward smile. 

 

Arriving at the prison, Cas fought the urge to throw up when he was frisked and led through several corridors, each one locked before the other unlocked. 

Castiel passed rows of cubicles, each with a worn, gray metal chair facing thick glass and displaying scratched yellow handsets. 

The guard, a short sweaty guy with a beer gut hanging over his belt, pointed to the very last booth and Cas slowly settled himself on the cold seat. 

 

Enough time passed to make Castiel’s face grow hot and red with fear, swallowing in an attempt to moisten his suddenly dry throat and fisting his hands to control their tremors. 

A row of orange draped prisons walked out in single file, all dispersing to different stalls before the devil, himself, appeared at the very end of the line. 

 

Lucifer wasn’t the shiny-shoed, well dressed boss anymore. 

The man’s hair looked as if he had chopped it with a butcher knife. 

His face pale, except for the impressive bruises on both his left eye and right jaw. 

Lucifer sported fading yellow marks around his neck, someone choked the guy not too long ago. 

When he lowered himself to the seat on the other side of the glass, carefully, in obvious physical pain and smiled, Castiel noticed his top, third tooth was missing. 

 

Someone kicked this dude’s ass. 

Well, did something to his ass anyway. 

 

Lucifer picked up his handset, Cas mirrored his movements and found the courage to lock eyes with him. 

“Hello, Castiel.” 

The boy couldn’t find his voice right away, mesmerized but the thin, pathetic man sitting across from him. 

“You look good,” Lucifer continued, displaying the dark spot in his mouth as he grinned. “Hairs longer, you got a bit of a tan, put a little weight on. Really…mouthwatering.” 

The following smirk ran Cas’s blood cold and he continued to stare at the man, speechless. 

“You know, the deal was you talk to me. If I’m having a one sided conversation with a statue, I’m not taking that damn plea deal.” 

 

With a deep breath and a few blinks, Cas cleared his throat. 

“Hello, Lucifer.” 

The prisoner smirked, “You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say my name? It was always ‘Sir’ before. I like the sound of it in your sweet voice.” 

Castiel’s stomach tightened, the attempt at compliments filled him with disgust. 

“What would you like to discuss?” 

“You, of course. Us.” 

“There is no ‘us’, Lucifer. There never was.” 

“Well…” the man winked, “I believe there are at least a hundred recordings that say otherwise.” 

“Yes. Thank you for that. I have met a few fans recently.” 

“Yeah, some of the guys in here recognize me too.” 

“That would explain the difficulty you had sitting down. You must be very popular.” 

Castiel had found his voice and smiled broadly. 

 

Lucifer’s expression darkened. 

“Got a little ballsy since I sent you to Crowley, huh? Think you’re hot shit, sitting behind this glass, knowing I can’t reach you.” 

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I do.” 

The man let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. 

“I didn’t ask you here to fight, Castiel.” 

“I am still having trouble understanding why you demanded this meeting.” 

“I wanted to see you, hear your voice again. Didn’t think you would come on your own.” 

“That is correct. Whatever romanced version you have in your head, let me educate you. You are a pedophile, a disgusting bottom feeder that, I believe, is getting what he deserves.” 

The words were coming out without thought, without filter and it felt good. 

 

It was liberating and Castiel couldn’t help the smile on his face. 

 

“Times up!” the overweight guard announced to the entire group. 

Lucifer didn’t stand right away, continued to stare at Castiel in anger. 

A very large man, right eye scarred closed with a prominent tattoo on his throat, halted on his way out. 

The prisoner sneered, lowering his mouth to Lucifer’s ear and whispering something that caused all the blood in the devil’s face to drain away. 

 

“Your boyfriend is summoning you, Lucifer. Mine is waiting back home. Are you going to accept the plea bargain?” 

The broken man looked up at his former prisoner one last time. 

“Yeah..yeah…whatever you want.” 

Lucifer set the receiver back in to its cradle, raising slowly, painfully, from his chair to follow the line of inmates out of the room. 

After one last glance over his shoulder, Castiel’s focused moved from Lucifer’s beaten expression to the crimson stain on the seat of his orange jumpsuit. 

 

‘and he was never seen or heard from again’ Dean’s voice in Cas’s head declared, causing the boy to smile broadly as he exited the prison. 

 

Castiel returned home feeling as if a giant boulder had been removed from his chest. 

The movies were still out there but the monster wasn’t. 

And that was worth the trip. 

 

Spring rolled around, he and Dean had never been closer. 

Mary was the mother Cas had desperately needed and Sam the little brother he didn’t know he wanted. 

He found a job with a landscaping company, Eden’s Garden. 

Castiel’s boss was wonderful, an older man named Jacob, kind, soft spoken and happy to teach the boy everything he could. 

Cas loved the fresh air, plants and bees. 

 

Mid-April, Lydia went in to labor, Dean rushed to the hospital and Castiel couldn’t help the small pang of jealousy as he paced the waiting room. 

Dean was in with Lydia, holding her hand as she gave birth to their child. 

How could he not feel more than a little out of place? 

 

When Dean burst out the door, calling Castiel in to see Emma, the grin on the man’s face was contagious. 

Cas hesitantly entered Lydia’s room, the small, pink infant cuddled against the girl’s chest. 

“Dean, give us a minute?” the new mommy asked. 

“Uh…yeah…sure. I’ll go find my mom.” 

As his boyfriend left the room, Castiel started to follow. 

“No, Cas, stay. Come hold Emma.” 

The boy was more than a little confused, lowering himself to the closest chair, reaching for the baby. 

 

Emma was perfect. 

She had Lydia’s delicate, feminine features but when she tried to raise her lids a few times, Castiel caught a glimpse of familiar green eyes. 

“She’s beautiful” he breathed. 

“And she’s very lucky” Lydia added, “She has a mom, a grandpa, a grandma, an uncle and two daddies.” 

Cas’s head jerked up in surprise, changing his focus from little Emma to her mommy. 

“W-what?” 

“Castiel. You’re going to be an important part of my daughter’s life. I want you to be here, with us, with Dean and me, raising her together.” 

 

Happy tears rarely flowed from Cas’s sapphire eyes, usually they were drops of sadness or fear. 

One landed on Emma’s little cheek, Castiel hurriedly wiped it away with his palm, amazed at the infant’s soft, warm skin. 

Holding the baby securely in his arms, he leaned over to place the sweetest of kisses on Lydia’s forehead. 

“You are truly an amazing person, Lydia.” 

“Nah…” she blushed prettily, “I just know free childcare when I see it.” 

Castiel’s laughed woke Emma completely, causing her to fuss and demand a bottle. 

Lydia called for the nurse and Cas sat, rocking slightly as he fed the pink bundle of joy. 

Emma’s mommy drifted off to sleep, exhausted. 

Dean tip-toed in with Mary and Sammy, both whispering ‘ohs’ and ‘awes’. 

Castiel transferred the baby to Mary’s waiting arms, shared a small smile with Sam and slipped out of the room. 

 

Dean caught up with his boyfriend in the waiting room.

“Cas? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve been crying.” 

Castiel shook his head, gazing up at his love. 

“Nothing is wrong. Absolutely nothing is wrong, for once.” 

Dean pulled his sweetheart in to a bone crushing hug. 

“Lydia talked to you about being Emma’s Poppa, huh?” 

“Yes. Wait…’Poppa’?” 

“Well, I get Daddy.” 

“Why do you get ‘Daddy’?” Castiel asked, mockingly indignant. 

“Because I’m the one who put my…” 

Cas interrupted quickly, “Ew! Ew! Fine, you can have ‘Daddy’. Now I cannot get the visual out of my head. Thank you, Dean.” 

 

His boyfriend gifted him with one of his patented ‘Aw shucks’ smiles, taking his hand. 

“Come on, let’s see who can spoil her the most.” 

Castiel allowed Dean to tug him back in to Lydia’s room, where the new mom was awake and giggling at something Mary said. 

Cas stood by the door for a moment, soaking in the love and the distinct feeling of ‘family’. 

 

This was the Heaven he had assured Father Jim existed and these were the Angels.

 

Unfortunately, there was still one more devil he had to deal with before living happily ever after. 

 

Crowley.


	24. DEAN - CASTIEL - SAM

DEAN

 

Dean sat in Lydia’s bedroom, rocking tiny Emma to sleep, completely entranced. 

“You’re pretty good at this whole ‘daddy thing’” Lydia whispered from her bed. 

“Yeah…helped a lot with Sammy when he was little.” 

“You want more?” 

Dean’s head snapped up, eyes wide. 

Lydia lying on her mattress asking if he wants more children.

 

Yep, time to go! 

 

“No…” Emma’s mom laughed, holding her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. “I meant you and Cas. You know, in the future.” 

“No agency is going to let two psychos adopt. We’re happy to spoil this little princess.” 

“This psycho will surrogate.” 

“Wait…w-what?” 

“I’m not talking about tomorrow, dummy. I loved being pregnant. If you two decide on more brats in the future, just let me know.” 

“Ok…” Dean’s answer drawn out obviously confused. “Let’s say ten years down the line, Castiel and I want to give Emma a brother or sister, you would carry the baby for us?”

“Yep!” 

“That’s easy to say now. You could be married by then; your husband might not like it.” 

“Who says I’m getting a husband? Why not a wife?”

Dean’s brows raised high enough to get lost in his hair. 

“Seriously?” 

“That Charlie chic, the one Ash sent you to when you spilled Dr. Pepper on your laptop; she and I have been…talking.” 

“Well, well. Look who’s keeping secrets.” 

Emma had fallen in to a deep sleep, her daddy finally able to maneuver her from his arms to her crib. 

Settling on the bed next to Lydia, just like he had a hundred times before things got complicated, he grinned. 

“This is the part of the conversation where I point out our ages and how unsure we all are about our futures.” 

“Yeah…but…in a perfect world Dean, when you’re married to Castiel.” 

“Ok, in theory, should Cas and I want more kids, you will be the first person I call. But you need to know, you won’t get off with just in-womb babysitting for nine months. You have a child with us, we all three raise it, just like Emma.” 

“Or all four if I can get Charlie in to bed.” Lydia wiggled her eyebrows and Dean’s laughter woke up the baby. 

 

Dean relayed the conversation to his boyfriend when he came home. 

“Dean. You just finished your first year of college. Children and marriage should be a decade from your priorities.” 

“Maybe for most people, but I already have a child and I know exactly who I want to spend the rest of my life with. I’m ahead of the game. Very advanced and mature.” 

Crossing his arms and nodding his head, he attempted to make the last point clear. 

What he got was belly-shaking barely-breathing laughter from Castiel. 

Wiping tears from his eyes “Stop! Stop! You are killing me.” The boy held his side in pain. 

Dean smirked, watching Cas laugh was one of his very favorite things to do. 

 

It was just after Castiel received his high school diploma; Dean and his boyfriend were trying to pick out classes for Cas’s freshman year in college when the phone rang. 

This time, it was the state attorney for Nevada. 

Crowley refused any and all plea bargains, still proclaiming his innocence. 

They would need Cas to testify. 

Dean wondered if they were ever truly be able to leave the past behind. 

 

Ever be able to have the family they planned. 

 

The life they wanted. 

 

 

CASTIEL 

 

Another interview with a state attorney. 

Another flight scheduled, interrupting Castiel’s life once again. 

Another time he couldn’t have Dean with him when he needed him. 

 

It didn’t matter how many times Agent Hendrickson said he was 'strong' and 'brave'. 

The thought of seeing Crowley again, of telling a room full of strangers how Castiel had been his personal sex toy, kept him awake the night before. 

Cas didn’t sit in the courtroom as the trial began, he stayed in the hallway by himself, texting Dean and playing games on his phone. 

The first day proceeded slowly; apparently a lot of legal maneuvers and objections delayed them. 

Cas wouldn’t be called to the stand until the next day. 

 

He spent two hours on the phone with Dean that night, venting and crying. 

“I am stuck here another day.” 

“Sweetheart, I know it sucks. But this is your last hurdle. You have it with you, right?” 

“Yes. I have kept it in the inner pocket of my jacket all day.” 

“Then you know I’m with you too. After everything you’ve survived, Cas, this is a walk in the park.” 

Castiel dropped his head back to the wall above his hotel bed.

“I love you Dean Winchester.” 

“And I love you, Castiel Lange.” 

“Good night.” 

“G’nite babe.” 

 

Castiel felt better waiting in the hall the next day. 

Although Dean had just repeated everything he had told him before Cas left, rubbing the fragile piece of paper between his thumb and forefinger helped. 

It had been over an hour before he saw another person. 

But it wasn’t the bailiff calling him to testify. 

“Hey Thursday’s Angel” 

 

Father Jim 

 

Castiel jumped to his feet, wrapping the priest in a tight embrace and smiling. 

“I am so glad you are here, Padre.” 

“As am I.” the Father taking the seat next to Cas, “I believe we have some time to wait. Why don’t you tell me how you are?” 

Castiel had kept in touch with Father Jim, sending emails with broad details and happy stories. 

Skipping over nightmares, flashbacks and tears. 

They spent the next hour and a half catching up; Cas barely noticed the time flying by until an officer poked his head out of the double doors and waved the boy in. 

“Wish me luck.” He mumbled. 

“Go smite your devil, Thursday.” 

 

Castiel made a conscious effort not to look at anyone in the courtroom but the bailiff, the judge and the prosecuting attorney. 

Cas physically felt Crowley’s eyes on him as he placed his hand on the Bible and took his oath. 

The state’s attorney started off simply enough, reviewing the details of his abduction, Crowley’s lawyer objected whenever Lucifer or his actions were mentioned. 

The judge declaring them irrelevant. 

Castiel relayed details of the day Azazel took him to Crowley, how he saw money change hands. 

Explaining his life in the rich man’s mansion, he downplayed Meg and Benny’s involvement. 

Cas had no hatred towards Crowley’s lackeys. 

Meg took care of him and Benny helped him escape. 

 

When he reached the point where he met Father Jim, the prosecution ended their questioning, turning Castiel over to the defense. 

Crowley’s lawyer seemed to position himself in a way that Cas wouldn’t be able to avoid his clients gaze. 

“Castiel” the attorney began, “When my client had sex with you, did you say ‘no’?” 

“No, Sir.” 

“Did you ask him to stop?” 

“No, Sir.”

The lawyer nodded, glancing at the jury before continuing. 

“Castiel, did you cry for help?” 

“No, Sir.” 

“Did you scream ‘rape’?” 

“No, Sir.”

“Then it is reasonable to believe Mr. McCloud had your consent.” 

“No, Sir.” 

“No? Did you try to fight? Offer any resistance?” 

Castiel’s face was hot; the tips of his ears burning and his temples throbbed, blurring his vision. 

After a sip of the water provided, Cas breathed deeply before answering. 

“No, Sir.” 

“No.” Crowley smirked as his attorney repeated the answer with feigned confusion. 

“Again, Castiel, how can you possible accuse my client of rape?” 

 

“Because, I was 16 fucking years old!” 

 

The judge admonished Cas for his language as Father Jim offered a smiling nod from the back of the courtroom. 

“No more questions, your Honor” the frustrated lawyer mumbled. 

“Redirect, your Honor?” requested Nevada’s state attorney.

“Go ahead.” 

“Castiel. When you were living with Mr. McCloud, did you ever want to have sexual intercourse with the man?” 

“No, Sir.” 

“As we have established, you were kept supervised in his home for almost a year.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“How many times were you made to have sex with Mr. McCloud in that year?” 

“I am unsure of the exact number, but I was raped almost every day.” 

“No more questions, your honor.” 

 

When Castiel was dismissed, he tried not to run from the courtroom, walking swiftly to meet Father Jim by the heavy doors and making it to the hallway before throwing up in a nearby garbage can. 

Assuring the priest he was alright, Cas excused himself to the restroom to clean up and rinse his mouth out. 

With his forehead leaning against the cold mirror, the boy reached his hand in to his jacket pocket to touch a folded piece of paper. 

 

“Well now” a familiar Scottish accent echoed into the room, “That was a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” 

Crowley was here, in the bathroom and the only way out was past him. 

The man clicked the lock on the door, turning to study Castiel with his head tilted to the side. 

“I understand you have written letters on behalf of Miss Masters and Mr. Lafitte, requesting mercy.” 

Cas tried to push past Crowley, only to have the man’s vicelike grip lock on to his upper arm. 

“No need to rush off, sweet Castiel. They’ve called recess for lunch. No one shall return for an hour.” 

“F-father Jim is waiting for me” Cas muttered, trying to tug his way free. 

“Did I not make you happy?” 

“You are delusional and I would like you to let go of me.” 

Crowley’s smirk was nothing short of evil as he released Castiel’s arm. 

Straightening his tie in the mirror, “I’ve never hurt you, sweet Castiel. I could never harm you.” 

Moving to the door, Cas unbolted the lock before turning to lock eyes with the man. 

 

“You did. But you do not have the ability to do so anymore.” 

 

Castiel flung the door open, catching himself from falling in to the hallway where Father Jim was waiting. 

“Are you alright? You look worse than you did when you went in there.” 

“We need to find the bailiff or the prosecutor. I believe intimidating a witness is a crime in itself.” 

 

It wasn’t a surprise, the jury, out for less than four hours, found Fergus McCloud, CEO of Crossroad Inc., guilty of rape, statutory rape, kidnapping, false imprisonment, possession of child pornography and human trafficking. 

 

Castiel flew home to Dean; his only worry was deciding what classes to pick for college. 

 

 

SAM 

 

Sammy’s visions and nightmares were rare these days. 

He still had them, but they were no longer related to Dean, Castiel or the other kids locked in Lucifer’s cages. 

Sometimes they were premonitions about things happening on the other side of the country. 

Once in a while they were helpful in solving cases with the local police and the FBI. 

Agent Hendrickson never doubted him. 

 

It was easier to sleep these days. 

Even on the nights Castiel and Dean had baby Emma, Sam slept through the crying and feedings. 

His brothers, and yes, Cas was his brother too, still suffered night terrors but they were few and far between. 

Sammy relished the peace that had blanketed the house. 

 

Finally. 

 

Tonight, though, Sam experienced a very long, very detailed dream. 

 

He walked through the door of a small, unfamiliar house. 

With a sense of floating, he pushed through the living room to a long hallway. 

In a room on the right, a little girl with dark blonde hair and forest green eyes attempted to shove two Stormtrooper action figures in to a Barbie Corvette. 

Sammy smiled at the vision, moving on to the next room. 

A chubby baby, head full of black locks, lay in his crib, watching a mobile made of bees and dragonflies with his incredibly blue eyes. 

 

The premonition pulled Sam back out of the bedroom, bringing him down the hall, through the living room and out a pair of sliding glass doors. 

There was a shirtless man, dirty and sweaty, planting and weeding a dense garden of flowers. 

As a police car pulled in to the driveway, the man stood, shielding his eyes from the sun. 

An officer exited the vehicle, strolling through the grass to grab the giggling gardener, tugging him chest to chest and kissing him deeply.

 

The dream chose to pull Sam back through the doors, down the hall. 

This time, he entered the last room on the left. 

It was a large area; drapes pulled back, sunlight bathing every surface. 

Sammy felt lifted to a matted gold frame displayed reverently above the bed. 

 

He recognized his mother’s handwriting; light gray and almost illegible on a tattered piece of paper, small holes and one distinct brown spot in the upper hand corner. 

 

A heart beat before Sam woke up, his gift allowed him to focus on the parchment framed so worshipfully in gold 

 

 

‘I’LL BE BACK FOR YOU’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They never found poor Cassie. :(
> 
> Dick and Gordon weren't charged. :(
> 
> But our heros live happily ever after. :) 
> 
>  
> 
> Always grateful for every single person who reads my stories and overjoyed when they like them. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you.


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